


Seasons of Strife

by Nimbus_Cloud



Series: Seasons [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Canon Compliant, Drama, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of kagehina, Post-Canon, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-05 15:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6711118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nimbus_Cloud/pseuds/Nimbus_Cloud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5556743/chapters/12817247">Seasons of Love</a>.</p><p>After a blissful year of normalcy and routine, life is demanding change. At the start of their third year of University, it's time for Kuroo and Bokuto to think seriously about their futures. Akaashi returns to school after taking an unexpected ronin year, and Tsukishima joins them in Tokyo for his higher education. Old relationships are tested, new relationships are born, and everything makes Kenma uneasy.</p><p>--</p><p>Takes place one year after the end of Seasons of Love. I recommend reading Seasons of Love before diving into this one as they are heavily connected, and reading SoL will enhance the reading of this fic. This story focuses primarily on Kenma and Bokuto's struggles, with much attention given to Kenma's developing anxiety disorder, and Bokuto's varying mishaps and bad decisions. After writing a 100k fic of mostly fluff, I'm trying my hand at drama and angst!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Growing up and giving up

Kenma’s phone buzzed in his pocket—for the fifth time that evening—and Kuroo began waving him out of the kitchen with his ladle. 

“Seriously, just go to the room and call him, he clearly wants to talk to you.”

“I told Shouyou we’re in the middle of making dinner; and I said I was gonna help you,” Kenma mumbled, but still pulling his phone out of his pocket and glancing at the screen. 

“Mm… because pulling your phone out of your pocket every thirty seconds to text your friend is super helpful!” Kuroo teased with a smile, bumping Kenma with his hip.  “Go.  It’s not a hard recipe, I can make the rest on my own.”

“You’re sure?”

Kenma’s phone buzzed again in his hand.

“ _I’ll_ live.  Not sure about him though.” Kuroo gestured to the phone with the utensil before turning back to the stove and turning down the heat on the boiling noodles. 

With a guilty pout, Kenma planted a quick peck on Kuroo’s cheek before shuffling into their room, plopping down onto his bed and unlocking his phone, reading the latest texts from his chat log with the Karasuno—oops, former Karasuno—ace. 

 _I wish I could go with him._  
_I’m gonna miss him so much!  We’re together all the time right now, everything’s gonna feel so empty after he leaves._

A heavy sigh escaped Kenma’s nose as he opened his contacts list to start calling his despondent friend—texts weren’t going to be enough to placate Shouyou in his current mood.  Though truth be told, he wasn’t sure what advice he could really give his friend regarding the matter.  People used to say that Kenma and Kuroo had successfully managed to survive a year in a long-distance relationship, but that wasn’t really true… They were only separated by a year in school and still lived in the same city while ‘apart.’  Kenma used to see Kuroo multiple times a month and at their ‘distance,’ they could still manage (failed) surprise visits when the mood struck them. 

Shouyou and Kageyama would soon be separated by entire prefectures—a two-and-a-half hour ride on the _shinkansen_ and an average 12,000 yen ticket... or a five-hour bus ride if the tickets got too costly.  Not exactly a day trip. 

When Shouyou finally answered the phone, it was with a sniffle and a quiet sob. 

“Kenma…” he whined, voice hoarse. 

He’d already been crying.  Kenma would never have guessed it from the tone of their texts. 

“Shouyou…”

“I want him to play!  For both of us!  I just thought… _I_ was the one who said we would do it together on the world stage, but…” he hiccupped into the line and his words soon became lost in the jumble of incoherent wails and massive sniffles. 

“I know, Shouyou.” 

If Shouyou had been scouted, the two of them could have taken the volleyball world by storm, Kenma thought to himself.  And what a loss that was.  But in the end, the boy never grew taller than 170cm (couldn’t quite make it actually, ended up 168.8cm without his fluffy hair), and while his skills are formidable, he never once made it into the list of top five aces in the country, despite Karasuno continuing to be a championship-contending school.  No university saw Shouyou’s worth separately from his star setter, and Kageyama received so many offers by comparison it made Shouyou green with envy.  They very nearly broke up over it.  Kenma’s phone had really blown up with texts and calls that spring weekend.

“At first… I was just jealous, you know?” Shouyou resumed talking, voice a little quieter, breathing a little calmer.  “Like I was happy for him, but it wasn’t fair since we had both worked so hard… and it felt like nobody saw how hard _I_ had worked to stand on the court with him as his equal.  Kageyama thinks we’re equal, that’s what matters, I know.  But no university thinks so… and without getting in as an athlete… my grades suck, there’s no way I could follow Kageyama to Chuo.” 

Kenma began absentmindedly twirling his hair while listening.  He and Shouyou have had this conversation already, but he knew it helped the redhead to talk about it.  For Shouyou, the pressure would build and build and he had to get it out eventually somehow—usually by crying or talking or both.  And Kenma knew he wasn’t the only one Shouyou had been consulting.  Their former team manager, that freckled pinch server… probably even their old _senpai_ , the ones who were still around in Sendai anyway. 

Kyari mewled and jumped onto the bed, walking over Kenma’s legs and sniffing at his knees. 

“Is that Kyari-chan?” Shouyou brightened a bit, having heard the small cry through the phone. 

“Mm.”  Kenma reached for the calico, and she ran her head into his hand, rubbing against his fingers and beginning to purr.  “She’s on the bed with me.  I guess she’s saying hi.” 

“Maybe I’ll get a cat after Kageyama leaves.  To keep me company.”

“If it’s company and affection you want, a dog might be better,” Kenma mused as his cat nipped lightly at his fingers.  “Cats aren’t the most affectionate pets in the world.  Moody.” 

Kyari whipped her tail against him before turning and jumping off the bed, plodding off back to the kitchen toward Kuroo.  Probably to beg for food. 

“Oh speaking of moody.  Kageyama’s not the only one going to Tokyo after this summer.  Tsukishima got into… uh… somewhere.  I forgot.  I wasn’t paying too much attention to that part because Yamaguchi seemed really depressed so I was trying to cheer him up and stuff.”

“Tsukki did?”

“You call him that?”

“Ah… I do because Kuro does.  Never to his face though.”  Kenma actually couldn’t recall the last time he spoke to Tsukishima that wasn’t in the context of a volleyball match.  The blond was more Kuroo’s friend— _kohai_?—than his.  “He gets upset when we call him that.” 

“Yeah… Yamaguchi’s the only one allowed to call him _Tsukki_ , I’m pretty sure.  And lately, not even Yamaguchi’s doing it.”

“That can only mean good things,” Kenma replied sarcastically.  “Don’t follow their example, Shouyou.  Enjoy your time with Kageyama before he leaves, keep in touch with him, come visit us all in Tokyo when you can.”

“That’s the way to the future, huh?” Shouyou stopped sniffling at last, to Kenma’s relief.  “Yeah… Parts of it are gonna suck, but… everyone has to do what they can, right?  If I do what I can, I’m gonna get through it, yeah?” 

“I think you’re gonna be fine, Shouyou.”

“Thanks, Kenma.  I really appreciate you calling me and stuff… even from Tokyo… Hey, if we can stay friends even though you’re all the way in Tokyo, then Kageyama and I can definitely make something like a relationship work, right?” 

“Prob—yeah.” 

“All right.  I’m gonna go… wash my face at least.  Thanks again for calling, I’ll talk to you later!” 

“Bye Shouyou.”

“Bye Kenma!” 

It was only when he tucked his phone away into his pocket that Kenma noticed the delicious aroma in the air of their apartment, and he walked into the living room to find Kuroo setting out their dinner onto their low table. 

“How’s our favorite baby crow?”  Kuroo asked with a grin, bringing two glasses of water to finish the spread. 

“Crying about Kageyama again.  I think once he’s started up his first semester in college he’ll get busy and then it won’t be on his mind so much.  This looks good.”

“Can’t say anything about how it’ll taste but at least it looks good, right?” Kuroo grinned as he untied his apron and took a seat on the cushion.  “Well, long-distance relationships are hard.  I sympathize.”

“Barely the same situation, Kuro.  We were in the same city.  Half an hour apart.  I saw you all the time.”

“No, _now_ you see me all the time.”

“Did you know Tsukki is coming to Tokyo?” Kenma remembered suddenly, taking his seat. 

“Hm?  Oh yeah, he got into Keio.  He was asking me about apartments and stuff a few weeks ago.  ‘I’d prefer to not live in a dodgy area, if you can manage such a recommendation,’ or something like that… Cheeky bastard.”  Kuroo clicked his tongue before digging into his food, tasting the first mouthful of noodles.  “Hm, not bad.” 

“You didn’t tell me.” 

“You guys aren’t really friends,” Kuroo shrugged, taking a sip of his water.  “Though I guess you could be once he’s here.  We might see him more often if the honorable Tsukki deigns to grace us with his presence.” 

“I didn’t know you and Tsukki kept in touch that well.”  Kenma poked at his food, his stomach twisting with something he can’t quite name. 

“If you can call it that.  He just asks me questions once in a while when he needs advice.  Used to be about volleyball, now it’s about apartments in Tokyo.  Doesn’t ever reply to anything I send him though… it’s pretty one-sided, actually.  I’m not sure how I ended up with such a selfish _kohai_ …  Aren’t you gonna eat?”

He wanted to.  Five minutes ago when he first smelled the food, his stomach had growled at the aroma on his tongue.  Now Kenma’s insides were knotting and his chest felt uncomfortably warm.  With what?  Jealousy?  About Shouyou’s smart-mouthed friend who barely talks to anyone that doesn’t have freckles?  That Kuroo didn’t tell him about the five texts they shared a few weeks ago?  Kenma didn’t show Kuroo his every text with Shouyou.  But there was something… something lurking and it stole his appetite. 

“I’m not hungry.” 

“What?”

“I’ll eat it later when I am.”

“Kenma, you okay?”  Kuroo grabbed his wrists as Kenma began to rise from the table, eyebrows furrowing in concern. 

“My stomach’s not feeling well for some reason.  I’m gonna go lie down, but I’ll eat later.”  Kenma kissed Kuroo’s forehead, loving him for the concern he always showed him, adoring Kuroo’s open affections.  How could he ever doubt him? 

But his gut was still stirring, and he was going to have to lay down after all.  He curled under the blankets with his game console, the bright light illuminating his face and the digitized music of his game filling the small room.  Kyari jumped into the bed after him, curling up at his feet, and Kenma found comfort in her soothing purring, the vibrations warm against his ankles. 

* * *

 

When he woke up the next morning—late—to the sound of sizzling eggs in the kitchen and Kyari asleep on his head, Kenma wondered for a second if he had accidentally taken a nap.  And then he realized that, why yes, he had accidentally taken a nap.  Of about fifteen hours.  He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, and the calico stirred above him on the pillow, stretching and flexing her claws on his scalp.

“Ow…” he muttered before rolling out of bed and shuffling over to the kitchen. 

“Oh, you’re up!  How are you feeling?” Kuroo turned the stove off and began carefully shaking the omelet out of the pan and onto a nearby plate, another finished omelet sitting nearby. 

Kenma felt his stomach gurgle with hunger and reached for the one sitting on the counter, but Kuroo immediately shoved the hot, fresh-out-of-the-pan one into his hand instead. 

“This one came out a little better,” he smiled.  “Glad to see you have an appetite.” 

“Mm…” Kenma nodded, scooping a ladle of rice out of the rice cooker and grabbing the ketchup from the fridge. 

As he was grabbing a spoon, he felt Kuroo’s hand brush gently against his forehead, leaving it for a few seconds before tucking a stray strand of his long, black hair behind his ear. 

“No fever, that’s a relief.” 

“I’m fine.  Sorry about last night,” Kenma mumbled.

“I guess it’s better for you to get sick while there aren’t any classes going.  Better now than next week.  I bought some vitamin drinks last night just in case though.” 

“Thanks… why aren’t you at practice?”

It didn’t occur to him until just then, as Kenma noted the date on the wall calendar where Kuroo had scribbled in his summer practice dates as well as his hours at work.  There was definitely a mark for morning practice today, scrawled in from several weeks before.

“I thought you were sick.  I wanted to make sure you were okay when you got up and stuff.  I texted Bokuto, he’ll let the team know.”  Kuroo shrugged, bringing his own plate of omelet rice to their table and settling in, Kenma slowly following.  “Plus the new semester starts soon, and… I’m gonna quit the team so it’s no big deal missing today’s practice.” 

Kuroo said it with such nonchalance it didn’t hit Kenma until he had chewed and swallowed his first mouthful of breakfast.  Reaching for his water, his mouth finally dropped open, and he gaped at the man sitting across from him shoving a spoonful of rice into his mouth.

“Wait, what?”

“Hm?”

“You’re… quitting?”

It boggled Kenma’s mind to try and imagine Kuroo leaving the team—leaving the sport he’s loved since they were small children.  Trying to imagine Kuroo without volleyball in his life was like trying to imagine a cat without ears.  Within the realm of possibility, but still slightly off-putting. 

“Mm… yeah.” Kuroo began poking at his food, a faraway look in his eyes.  “I’m starting my third year and my advisor said it’s time to start buckling down on a major and focus on that.  The coaches have already talked to the players who have a chance at going pro… the rest of us know we won’t.  Third years who stick around when they’re not in it for the long haul… It’s discouraged.”

“But you love volleyball.” Kenma whispered softly, hating the way Kuroo’s shoulders were hunched over in resignation.  “Who cares?  You stuck around third year in high school.”

“The pride of my youth,” Kuroo smiled, though it felt forced.  “But the stakes are higher now.  Choosing what I want to do for the rest of my life is important.  I need to give it its proper due.” 

Kuroo reached his hand across the table, lacing their fingers together.  He looked down at their entwined fingers, focusing on the gentle touch of Kenma’s skin against his own—Kenma’s hands had lost nearly all of their callouses from his year spent off the court.  But Kuroo loved their new softness, and it reminded him that change could be good.  Better even. 

“Besides, at Nekoma I had you with me.  With you as the main setter, me as captain… Nekoma finally became the team it was meant to be for us, and that was impossible to leave behind after Interhigh.”

“But you play with Bokuto now.  On a team that always goes to nationals.” 

“And they’ll be fine with or without me.  Remove me from the list of regulars, there are six other middle blockers kept in reserve who are just as skilled.  Playing with Bokuto is fun… when we get to be on the court at the same time, which isn’t always.”

“Kuro—“

“But you know, Kenma,” and he gripped Kenma’s hand tighter in his own.  “Bokuto… all he can talk about is volleyball, and sometimes Akaashi.  He talks about going pro all the time, he wants it _bad_.  I don’t know anything about his classes, his part-time job, even his family.  His world is volleyball, and he’s good at it, and he deserves a spot on the world stage.  Me?  I love playing, but I also love my classes, and I even have fun at the restaurant most nights… I love coming home to you and Kyari-chan, and I don’t like the idea of giving _any_ of it up.  I love volleyball, but it’s not the only thing I love... and for a while I got to be selfish and do it all.  Now I have to pick something.  But at least pro-athletics let me knew where I stood.”

“I don’t want you to have to give anything up.”  Kenma muttered, biting his lip at the small tears he saw pooling in Kuroo’s eyes.  “How long have you been thinking about this?” 

“Scouts came by a few weeks ago.  So… about that long.” 

“But you didn’t—“

“I needed to think about it on my own.”  Kuroo stated firmly, biting his lip and sniffing once.  “At home, I just wanted to be free of it… let it be a space where I didn’t have to think or talk about it.  For a while.  Did you notice I was extra clingy?” 

Kenma had, actually.  But he hadn’t thought it had anything to do with such… _weighty_ topics.

“But you’ve decided now, so you’re letting me know.” 

“Yeah.  If I get antsy, I’m sure Bokuto would be happy to have someone to help him with his extra practice.  So at least I’ll still have that.” Kuroo chuckled.

“At least.” Kenma returned the smile and brought Kuroo’s hand to his lips, lightly kissing the knuckles. 

“Ok, let’s eat.  Cold eggs are gross.” 

Kenma gave silent thanks for the gurgling emptiness of his stomach pushing him to finish his breakfast—Kuroo’s revelation might have stolen his appetite otherwise.  For one year they had managed a blissful normalcy—going to school, work, practice, coming home to each other, studying for different tests in the same room, bickering about whose turn it was to wash the dishes, taking turns cuddling with Kyari and taking selfies together around the apartment… that could have been the rest of their lives, and Kenma would have been content with that.  But change was rearing its perturbing head again, and he was going to need to adjust himself to some new things.

His phone buzzed late into their breakfast with a text from Akaashi.

 _I've just registered for my fall classes at Waseda._  

Certainly they weren’t the only ones dealing with change.  Akaashi would soon start his first year of university—now in the same school year as Shouyou and Tsukki—but apart from all of them at the prestigious Waseda University.  Though not the medical school track his parents had been hoping for, even Akaashi’s parents could be pleased by a name like Waseda, and at the very least, they could take comfort in the fact that their son was returning to school. 

Not that Kenma ever believed Akaashi would stay a hapless _ronin_ forever, no matter what doubts Akaashi used to voice over the previous year. 

_What will you be taking?_

Kenma texted back as he and Kuroo tidied their plates from the table and opened the balcony doors.  Summer was ending, and it was going out with a final wave of stifling heat, metaphorical middle-fingers blazing.  Having a corner apartment meant a nice cross-breeze between open windows, but it also meant a fair amount of extra sunlight filtering in.  He watched as Kuroo set their fan in front of the open balcony, turning it on and letting it blow in the cool, late-morning air.  

 _Mostly general introductory classes._  
_I'm curious to give most everything a try.  Minus the obvious._

Kenma smiled at that, glad that Akaashi was given the chance to see if medicine was the right choice for him before being forced into a seven-year program somewhere.  It had been immensely stressful for his friend when he had decided to take that _ronin_ year for himself to know for sure—especially when everyone around him was getting acceptance letters from universities and taking the ‘proper’ route toward their futures.  After spending a year as a desk clerk at his father’s hospital and shadowing his work, Akaashi now knew for sure that medicine wasn’t the appropriate course of his future.  A disappointing revelation, perhaps (since it meant more soul-searching work ahead), but a necessary one. 

_I’m glad for you._

“Akaashi’s signed up for his classes,” Kenma reported aloud as Kuroo settled himself in front of the fan with a book. 

“Yeah?” 

“He sounds excited about starting school again.”

“What exactly does an excited Akaashi sound like?” Kuroo smirked, finding his previously dog-eared page.

“Mm... he gets talkative?” Kenma turned his phone over so Kuroo could see their chat log, and Kuroo snorted.

“ _That’s_ talkative?  I should show you some of my chat logs with Bokuto.”

“I’m sure _those_ will only get worse as Akaashi starts to get busy.” 

Just then, Kuroo’s phone buzzed with a new text, and the two stared at it a while before laughing aloud, their voices ringing together throughout the apartment.  Speak of the devil. 

“Guess his ears were burning,” Kuroo muttered while unlocking his phone.  “Oh, actually it’s Tsukki.” 

“More questions about apartment hunting?”

“Looks like he’s just moved in, actually.  Great heads up there.  He’s asking about dinner.  Wanna go?” 

“…is that okay?”  Kenma fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, voice quiet. 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Kuroo shrugged.

“You said yourself we’re not exactly friends.” 

“Doesn’t mean you can’t start now.  We’ll go together—welcome him to Tokyo, I guess.  Ah, he is a bit…”

“Prickly.” Kenma finished, recalling their practice matches and Shouyou’s own _stellar_ reviews of his tallest teammate/rival. 

Kuroo laughed, affection crinkling his eyes, and began texting a reply into his phone. 

“So you know all you need to know about him already.  The rest is deciding how much you want to actually put up with him.  He’s a good kid, really.  Just has some issues—oh, why don’t you ask if Akaashi wants to come?  I’ll text Bokuto.”

“This is quickly turning into a very large group.” Kenma’s brows were furrowed, but he texted Akaashi all the same. 

“It’s the third gym team from the summer training camp!  Minus Lev and Shrimpy.” 

“I forgot you guys called yourselves that.  Don’t you think that’s a little lame in retrospect?”

“Third gym team?  Hm… Yeah maybe we should’ve come up with something a little more snazzy.  Team Gym Three?  Gym Three Squad?  Gym… Cubed?  Not as good as squared…” 

Kuroo was moving closer with each suggestion; the end goal was to lay his head in Kenma’s lap for reading and tickle his legs with his spiky nest of hair.  He laughed as Kenma pinched his cheek as soon as he was within arm’s reach before kissing him. 

“Dork.” 

* * *

 

“So exactly how did we end up like this?” Tsukishima asked petulantly as he was shoved into a booth by an eager Bokuto. 

“Hey hey, what are you trying to say, Tsukki?!” Bokuto was yelling into the blond’s ear, squishing him into the side of the booth and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. 

“Touched though I am that you wanted us to be alone together, I think a proper welcome-to-Tokyo dinner has to have more than just me.  Plus I’m a married man.” Kuroo smirked and Kenma kicked his foot under the table lightly. 

“Please don’t flatter yourself, I messaged you only after Akaashi told me he couldn’t make it.” Tsukki muttered, his lip furling like he had a disgusting taste in his mouth.

“Eh?!  You were going to have dinner with just Akaashi and not the rest of us?!” Bokuto tightened his grip around Tsukishima’s shoulders and the blond finally began to struggle as his glasses began to come askew.  “I wouldn’t forgive you, you know.  I haven’t even gotten to see Akaashi much lately, if you got to have dinner with him alone… Ughhhh!!!  I’d—“

“Yes yes, okay.” Tsukishima sighed, shoving Bokuto’s face away.  “I was surprised to hear he’s about to start his first year—I wouldn’t have ever thought of him as the _ronin_ -year type.” 

“You didn’t exactly keep in touch…” Bokuto began to pout, leaning forward onto the table and stirring the ice in his water glass.  “You never answered any of the texts I sent you after that first training camp.”

“And I see you’ve stopped bleaching your hair, Kozume.” 

“Now he’s just ignoring me!” Bokuto moaned, reaching across the table towards Kuroo with wiggling fingers. 

“Just Kenma is fine.”  Kenma muttered from his seat across Tsukishima. 

For his part, he could see the blond had gotten even taller, if only by a small amount, but he must actually be over 190cm now.  He had lost what little baby fat he had in his cheeks, his features now about as sharp as his wit.  There was a slightly awkward silence between them before Tsukishima cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses before stating for the table,

“Well, I… I’ll probably be relying on all of you at some point for help living in this city.  So um… thank you for coming, and thank you for having me.” 

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…you really have grown up, huh?” Kuroo was the first one to speak, eyes wide. 

“Tsukki… do you maybe… _like_ us?!” Bokuto screeched, and Tsukishima immediately covered the ear the spiker was screaming into. 

“Please don’t call me ‘Tsukki.’”

“Rejected again!”

“So Freckles really is the only one who can call you that, hm?” Kenma commented lightly, watching Tsukishima’s face carefully as he recalled his earlier conversation with Shouyou. 

“He has a name.  As do I, which I’m going to request be used when—“

“Okay okay, we should probably be thinking of what to order anyway.” Kuroo waved his hand, motioning for Kenma to press the button at their table to call the server. 

Kuroo and Bokuto soon moved onto other topics, but Kenma hadn’t missed the way Tsukishima’s lip had twitched in irritation at the mention of his freckled friend.  There was definitely a story there, he thought, and he considered briefly asking Shouyou later about it.  Kenma was reasonably certain that if the redhead knew anything, he’d know Yamaguchi’s version of events at least.  

“What made you want to come to Tokyo for school?” Kenma asked curiously.  “Kageyama came for volleyball, but that’s not your reason, is it?”

“Wait, that crazy awesome setter’s here too?!” Bokuto perked up instantly.  “What school?” 

“Chuo,” Tsukishima relied with a huff.  “And he’s not in Tokyo yet, I don’t know when he’s getting in.”

“Oh man, if Chuo makes him a regular, that’ll be incredible!” Bokuto’s eyes were gleaming, clearly excited by the potential challenge.  But his excitement only seemed to irk Tsukishima further, and Kenma tried to redirect the conversation back. 

“So why Tokyo?”

“Why not?” Tsukishima drawled, flicking the corner of his napkin. 

“Remember, Kenma.  Tsukki’s one of those hotshot types that got into Keio no problem, so he thinks it’s no big deal.”  Kuroo smirked, leaning over to nudge Kenma’s shoulder with his own.

“It wasn’t ‘no problem,’ I still had to study.” 

“And now you’re a _city boy_ ,” Kuroo parroted Tanaka.  “Gonna do any sightseeing before the term starts?”

“Not really,” Tsukishima shrugged, taking a lazy sip of his water as the waitress came by their table to take their orders.  After everyone put in their requests and she took off, Tsukishima supplemented, “No one to go with.”

“What about Kageyama?”

“I’d rather throw myself off the Skytree.” 

“Did you guys have a falling out or something?” Bokuto asked blankly.

“Just because we were teammates doesn't mean we're friends.” Tsukishima replied coldly, and again the table fell into an uncomfortable silence. 

Uncertain glances were exchanged between Kenma, Kuroo, Bokuto, back to Kenma, back to Kuroo, who finally shrugged and leaned back in the booth, letting his arm wrap around Kenma’s shoulders before smiling a toothy grin at the blond.

“Guess that makes us special then.  Well, Tsukishima Kei… welcome to Tokyo.”

Tsukishima’s eyes darted between them all, expression calm but his fingers fidgeting on the table.  He gave a light bow of his head, murmuring a quiet, barely audible,

“Thank you.”

Kenma found himself feeling a little sympathetic toward their awkward, young _kohai_.  Kenma understood how difficult it was to let people into one’s life, one’s personal space… He didn't like being alone—he was sure not even Tsukishima wanted to be completely alone in a new city away from his family and old friends—but unlike Kenma, the blond couldn't help but be sharp around the edges; it wasn’t just that he didn't know how to be friendly, Tsukishima was actively mean.  Where Kenma failed to engage, Tsukishima engaged in the worst way possible.  And he no longer had a freckled best friend around to put up with him no questions asked.  But Kuroo and Bokuto were kind and genuinely big-hearted, so if Tsukishima could remember to reach out to them, Kenma thought to himself that he would be mostly fine. 


	2. Cute girls and cute boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto meets an underclassman on his team who reminds him very much of Akaashi, Kuroo's mother decides to become more involved with her son's social life, and Kenma's just, really really tired.

 

> _I don't have practice Friday night, if you wanted to see that new awful movie._  
>  _My treat?_

Bokuto hummed lightly as he unpacked his gym bag, changing silently in the locker room while his teammates raved nearby about the movie in question.  At this point he probably knew the entire plot in extreme detail since they had no head for being discreet or sensitive about spoilers.  But it didn't much matter.  It wasn’t the movie Bokuto cared about seeing.  His phone buzzed as he pulled on his knee pads, and he unlocked the screen immediately, expectant. 

 

> _I have a fair amount of assignments that need my attention, and a demonstration Friday night that I'd like to attend.  For the archery club._  
>  _Can we try another day?_

Bokuto sighed and without writing a reply, he threw his phone back into his bag, somewhat forcefully. 

It was his third rejection in two weeks—maybe fourth, if he counted the dinner with Tsukki that Akaashi missed out on—and it was starting to get disheartening.  He tried to remember his own first two weeks in university and couldn't recall if it had been as time-consuming for him as it currently seemed to be for Akaashi.  Sure, he had been busy, but he felt reasonably certain he didn't go more than a week without seeing his boyfriend.  He wasn't like Kuroo, who went almost his first two months without going home to see Kenma. 

_Akaashi..._

He thought miserably, slamming his locker shut and heading over to the gym with slumped shoulders.  Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if Kuroo were still around, but he hardly even saw his friend anymore now that he had quit the team.  In place of practice, Kuroo was picking up more shifts at the restaurant and attempting supplemental classes.  Their free-time didn’t match up neatly anymore, and Bokuto found himself also missing his friend dearly too—especially at practice when the guys started talking about girls... which was often. 

Not that Bokuto didn't find women attractive... before Akaashi came along, he had assumed he was decidedly straight.  But there was no one now to whom he could give a sly wink and a nudge, no one else who knew what he had struggled to keep secret.  And it ate at him more than he thought it would.  Keeping a secret was much _much_ harder when nobody around knew it at all. 

He was missing easy spikes, hitting out-of-bounds more frequently, and the success ratio of his serves had gone down considerably.  The mood swings he had managed to keep under control for two years were coming back with a vengeance, and his Coach was largely unsympathetic. 

"Take a rest, Bokuto," his Coach sighed, pulling him out of their practice six-on-six rotation.  "Cool off."

"Sorry Coach... I'm just a little out of it today." 

"You've been a little out of it for over a week, today's just the worst.  I don't know what's going on in that head of yours, maybe the scouts spooked you, maybe school, or maybe you've got a family thing... Whatever it is, get it sorted."

"Yes, sir," Bokuto mumbled, throwing a towel over his head and taking a seat on the sidelines.  He watched the court miserably as he was switched out with a back-up wing spiker.  Just what he needed—to be reminded of how replaceable he was. 

"Water?"

A new first year on the team offered a bottle to him with a nervous smile; Bokuto tried frantically to remember his name but couldn't. 

"Thanks.  Uhh...?" He accepted the water bottle with an apologetic shrug. 

"Akamatsu Max," he beamed.  "May I sit?"

"Don't be so formal," Bokuto grinned in reply, scooting over on the bench.  "Akaash—Akamatsu... you said?"

"Please, just call me Max." 

"Okay, Max then.  So you're half, huh?"  He knew it was a rude question the second it left his mouth and he winced at himself, but Max laughed graciously and gently explained.

"My mother's Japanese, my father's from Australia." 

Bokuto looked him over, tall (close to 190cm probably) and broad with a wide jawline, light brown hair and light brown eyes.  His genetics were blessed, Bokuto thought to himself.  The height and power not typically capable of a Japanese man came easier when half of your genes pulled from a white man's attributes.  Compared to the average Japanese athlete, Max was always going to stand just a little above the rest.  He knew Max was a middle blocker, but he hadn't seen him play much, but the first years didn't typically get very many opportunities on the court in the early weeks. 

"I saw you play at Spring High three years ago, actually," Max admitted, almost bashfully.  "I'm sorry, I don't remember the name of your high school, but I remember being quite impressed by you.  Your spikes were so powerful… I was a first year for my team—not even a regular then.  But being able to go to Spring High in your first year is a really memorable thing." 

"I'll bet," Bokuto smiled fondly, remembering his own time on the national stage.  It seemed grander then, back in high school.  Maybe because he had been younger and he had lost a little less of his wonder.  "What prefecture are you from?"

"Fukui.  We never place very high, so it's an honor just to go and compete.  Your match was the first one I got a chance to watch.  I don't remember your opponents..."

"Don't remember my team, the details of that game, but you remember me?"  Bokuto perked up, eyes shining.

"You kind of... stand out."  Max laughed.

"Says the half-Australian giant!"  Bokuto slapped his _kohai_ on the arm, a nostalgic feeling ringing through him when Max laughed good-naturedly.

"You do have a point..."

"Well once you guys get a chance to show the team your stuff, I'll be paying attention to you!" Bokuto winked.

"Of course!  I’ll—well, this is true of everyone so it’ll sound redundant, but I really want to be a regular." 

"Well my buddy who used to be on the team was a really solid middle blocker, so I'm gonna have some high expectations, just to give you a heads up." 

"Used to be?"

"Ah, well... we're third years now.  And he doesn't think he can go pro, so he ditched to focus on school."  Bokuto knew his words were harsh and unfair—Kuroo didn't _ditch_ his passion, he set it painfully aside to face reality, and he had done so with grace.  But Bokuto couldn't help but feel a little abandoned.  He tried to convince himself he was saying it in good humor.

"Is that why you've been so off your game recently?  You miss your friend?" 

"It's part of the reason," Bokuto huffed.  "There's other stuff." 

"I'm sorry to hear it.  I'm looking forward to seeing you play again at the top of your game." 

"You and me both," Bokuto muttered under his breath, looking wistfully out onto the court where the other regulars were practicing. 

"I should... get back to practicing with the other first-years.  It was nice to speak with you."  Max offered his hand, and Bokuto took it in a firm handshake.

"Too formal Aka—Max.  We're teammates, remember?" 

"Right."

Max smiled, a big, toothy smile that made something flutter in Bokuto's chest, and he could kick himself for it.  He _must_ be desperate for company, he thought.  It was pathetic and unfair, but it had been a long time since anyone's stroked his ego like that, and Bokuto knew his greatest fault was his vanity. 

When his coach later called him back in for the last set, there was noticeable improvement from before.  His teammates clapped him on the back, smiled and encouraged him, and it just made Bokuto's heart sink lower and lower that such a shallow thing could affect his performance so greatly.  A smile and a few compliments from a handsome man who reminded him of Akaashi in some ways?  If that’s all it took, Bokuto was in trouble.

Which was how he found himself knocking on the door of Kuroo and Kenma’s apartment that night, drinks and snacks in hand, still in his practice clothes after staying late working on his serves. 

Kenma answered the door.

“You’re home early—oh.  Bokuto.”

“Uh… hi.” Bokuto stammered nervously, his feet shuffling.  He held out the bag with a wry grin.  “Want some company?”

Kenma took the bag, looked inside to see his favorite apple juice and even a can of wet food for Kyari and wordlessly stepped aside to let Bokuto in.

The spiker neatly removed his shoes, dumping his bag down in the entryway and walked inside with a quiet,

“Sorry for the intrusion…”

Kenma plodded past him, rummaging through the bag to find the items that required refrigeration and promptly stuck them into the fridge.  Bokuto slowly entered the living room area, looking around tentatively. 

“You guys have a pretty decently sized place, huh…”

It was his first time seeing the inside of it, but he could feel without a doubt the space was uniquely theirs.  A quaint little home for just them two, with Kuroo’s jackets draped over every available chair, Kenma’s various charging cords dangling from the living room outlets… polaroids tacked to the walls with their smiling faces pictured.  Bokuto couldn't help feeling a little envious.  He then saw Kyari stretch out of the corner of his eye from her cushion, and he knelt down to her immediately. 

“Kyari-chan…”

She sniffed tentatively at his outstretched fingers, then yawned and moved away.  Bokuto pouted at the rejection, and Kenma settled back into his seat with his 3DS and the gifted apple juice, opening his game but turning down the volume. 

“We’ve never really had people over.  She’s not used to strangers.” 

“Oh… I guess that makes sense.”  A long silence passed between them before Bokuto spoke again.  “I didn’t think Kuroo had work tonight.”

“He doesn’t.  He’s out on a blind date.” Kenma replied coolly, though his stylus was definitely tapping his 3DS screen just a touch harsher than before.

“Oh, cool—wait, what?”  Bokuto spun around sharply to face Kenma completely.  “A date?!” 

“His mom set it up.  She was pretty pushy about it, so Kuro thought it’d be easier to just go and say he doesn’t like the girl afterward.” 

“Oh, well… I guess yeah.  You guys are still…  Your parents don’t…” 

Kenma’s stylus tapping furiously on the screen filled the heavy silence between them. 

“Nothing’s gonna happen.” Bokuto tried to reassure him, but Kenma was quick with his reply.

“I know that.”

“Yeah!  I mean, of course you know that.  You trust Kuroo.”

“I do.”

“Why wouldn’t you?  The guy’s been in love with you _forever,_ there’s no way some random girl on a forced blind date is gonna change the fact that he’s head over heels for just you.”

“Bokuto.” Kenma paused his game. 

“I’m sorry.  I’ll go.” 

Kenma sighed and closed his 3DS.  He might have never spent one-on-one time with Bokuto though he does consider him a friend, but he knew that the spiker wouldn’t just show up randomly out of the blue just for an evening chit chat with Kuroo.  He didn’t have to know him as well as Kuroo did to know there was something on his mind.

“Why are you here?” 

“Nothing serious, I just… uh… I haven’t seen much of Kuroo lately, and I thought I’d drop by, ya know?  Bring some snacks, just talk about dumb stuff to get my mind off things.”

“What things?” Kenma pressed. 

“Man, you really cut to the chase, don’t you?” Bokuto pouted, pulling his knees up to his chest and averting his eyes to the ground.  “I just feel lonely lately.  Akaashi keeps turning me down every time I try to ask him out on a date because he’s busy, and I barely get to see Kuroo anymore now that he’s quit the team, and… our favorite upperclassmen are gone.” 

“Why not make friends with your new underclassmen?” Kenma wondered innocently.  Akaashi had been an underclassman to Bokuto after all.  So had Tsukki. 

“Well, there’s one.  Max.”  Bokuto spoke slowly, unsure of how much he should say. 

“Max?”

“He’s half.”  Bokuto said to explain the name.

Kenma pursed his lips and waited for Bokuto to continue. 

“He’s uh… a nice guy.  Polite, maybe too polite.  Tall, big… he’s a middle blocker for us, though he’s a first-year so he’s not going to be assigned a regular position right away even if he’s good enough.  I don’t… honestly know that much about him yet since I just met him.  But he’s sweet.  Told me he saw me play at Spring High three years ago and that I was memorable!  I just met him _today_ honestly, but we’ll probably, uh… yeah.”

“Maybe try to look a little less love-struck,” Kenma cut in, his brows furrowing slightly. 

“What?”

“Your face.  You look like you do when you’re talking about Akaashi and not some random first-year you just met.” 

“Shit.” Bokuto covered his face with both hands, moaning into them and slumping down onto the floor.  “Shit shit _shit_ …”

“Bokuto, you haven’t—“

“I haven’t done anything!  I’m just feeling a bit lonely lately, like I said, and… and this guy honestly reminds me of Akaashi in a way, and I just—this is why I wanted to talk to Kuroo!  I’d never—not _ever_ —do anything to hurt Akaashi!  Kenma, you believe me right?  I don’t have it in me!” 

Kenma didn’t respond immediately, and the pause was excruciating; Bokuto wailed into the air.

“I just miss everyone—and I miss Akaashi most of all!” 

“I believe you.” Kenma shrugged. 

“You do?” Bokuto gaped. 

“I believe you wouldn’t do anything to hurt Akaashi.  I trust Kuroo who's out on a date right now; I'm sure Akaashi trusts you in general... maybe you should trust yourself.” 

“Kenma…” It was the first real conversation the two of them had ever had, and Bokuto could never have imagined it’d be over such a weird and slightly dangerous topic, but here they were, and here was Kenma encouraging him in the same way Kuroo probably would if he had been the one present, and… Bokuto couldn’t help but smile, his heart feeling lighter and very much exonerated. 

“You’re just a super friendly kind of guy.  You like people fast and easy, and yeah, you’ve been lonely lately.  You like your new underclassman, but you’re probably not falling in love or anything.  Don’t be too harsh on yourself.  Like you said, you haven’t done anything yet.” 

Kenma spoke nonchalantly; only a small portion of his thoughts were really made with the intent of making Bokuto feel better.  Mostly, he was just stating aloud his observations.  But to Bokuto, it was an immense comfort to know that’s what Kenma saw.  The ever-observant Kenma, whose words had always been trusted as irrefutable truth… if _he_ couldn’t fault Bokuto for anything, then it had to be true. 

“I’m glad you’re my friend.” Bokuto blurted clumsily. 

He knew, they _both_ knew; before this moment they’ve never really talked, never really interacted—their friendship was born out of mutual acquaintances and held together by derivative connections that never directly linked their two selves.  But now there was a link, an immediate connection between them, and now Bokuto could call their tenuous relationship a friendship without it sounding hollow.  It was only a shame that it took them so long.

Kenma felt a slight flush heating his ears and he pulled at his long hair to keep it hidden, taking a drink of his juice before offering,

“I have a few multi-player games for the Playstation.”

“Co-op or versus?”

“Depends on whether or not you feel like getting your ass handed to you.” Kenma smirked with an air of confidence Bokuto had rarely seen.

“Ooh, you’re on!” 

Kuroo came home later that evening to find the two of them glued to _Soul Calibur_ and guessed from Bokuto’s volume that he was definitely on the losing side of the scoreboard and had been for the bulk of the evening.  He had to admit it was an odd sight—the two of them interacting alone—but seeing them was _much_ more preferable to being stuck on a blind date set-up by a mother who was much too concerned with what was happening (or _not_ happening, to her knowledge) in her son’s love life. 

* * *

 

"No, mom, we're not going on a second date." Kuroo sighed into his phone, plopping himself down onto the bed and trying not to groan at his mother. 

Kenma was eavesdropping while working on his homework assignment.  Well... If he could call it that when he could only hear Kuroo's side of the conversation and they were sitting in the same room.  Kuroo and his mother had been semi-arguing for a little over half an hour now.  He was pretty sure Mrs. Kuroo was winning, like always.

"We didn't have anything in common, really... Believe it or not, just having a pretty face isn't the best foundation for a relationship...  Hey, _this_ face came mostly from you, you know…  What do you mean 'next on the list,' how many of these do you have planned for me anyway?  Here's a crazy idea, how about letting me find someone on my own, in my own time?  …You can't call me a volleyball maniac anymore; I quit the team, remember?  And anyway, that's beside the point."

Kuroo's voice was a bizarre mixture of aggravation and mild amusement as far as Kenma could tell.  Clearly he was not fond of being made to go on the dates (Kenma sure as hell wasn’t), but he was still getting a kick over his mother's concern about her son's 'nonexistent' love life and his poor status as a 'virgin.' 

_If only she knew what we got up to..._

But Kenma thought that if she _did_ know, she'd probably never speak to either of them again.  And he rather liked Mrs. Kuroo—who had always been like a second mother to him—so he would prefer to keep their relationship the way it was... where she could think of him as a second son but not be concerned with the fact that he's seduced her actual son into a life where she's not likely to ever have grandchildren.  Except for Kyari.  He glanced at the sleeping ball of fur.

_Mm… grandchild might be stretching it…_

"You saying 'just one more' means you're gonna send me on about a dozen more; I’ve done the one, it failed, I'm putting an end to it now." Kuroo snapped.

Kenma turned in his chair abruptly and flashed a frown at Kuroo, shaking his head.  That tone of voice was exactly the sort that would have his mother giving him the silent treatment for days or full on clobbering him.  Kuroo's attempts to take a firm stand against his mother usually ended poorly, and Kenma wasn't about to let Kuroo bring his mother's wrath down upon them both for being a little shit. 

"Hang on—mom—can you hold on for a sec, I need to take care of something."  He pressed the mute button on his phone and returned Kenma's glare with an incredulous one of his own.  "What?"

"Don't upset your mom like that."

"You're kidding, right?  You are aware of what she's making me do?  Blind dates with random girls, there's no way _you're_ okay with that." 

"It's... she's gonna get suspicious."

"She's suspicious already; let her be.  If I don't put my foot down now, this is gonna go on _ad nauseam_."

"When has 'putting your foot down' ever worked with your mom?  Just go on another one, turn another one down, she'll stop trying soon enough probably."  Kenma pouted.  It wasn’t his favorite solution, but it was favorable to a civil war in the Kuroo household. 

"Argh!  This is such a waste of time, she’s never cared before... I could be using the time to take _you_ out on dates instead." 

"You know I don't really like going out..." Kenma murmured, more relieved by Kuroo's sentiments than he would have liked to be.

Kuroo proffered him a bemused smile before unmuting his phone and resuming his conversation with his mother, a little less agitated, a little less hostile.   He agreed to another arranged meeting, scheduled for almost a week later—it's the only free time he has, he swears—before hanging up with a flourish. 

"You'd think she'd be content with having a son who gets good grades in school while working a part-time job to help ease her financial burdens... But I've spoiled her.  She's never had to worry about serious things like my grades or my behavior so now she's coming after my dick."

“I wouldn’t phrase it quite like that…”

Kuroo was griping, and Kenma usually found it endearing, but every conversation about their parents' obliviousness to their relationship made him feel queasy.  He hated being made to feel like they were doing something wrong.  They're _not_ , he tried to convince himself.  The only wrongdoing here was their lie of omission.  But no matter how many times he repeated it to himself, he felt a sickening guilt every time Kuroo's mother called or every time his own mother asked about any new friends he might have made—especially female ones. 

It was kicking in now, even though he hadn't talked to his mother in days.  Suddenly he couldn't focus on his assignment—he was almost done, if he could just focus he'd have it done within the next half hour.  But his mind was now swimming with thoughts he could barely pin down, and his stomach was twisting into uncomfortable knots.  His pulse was pounding in his ears, erratic.  Seeing Kuroo still lying on the bed, Kenma moved over to him, curling up into his side, laying his head on Kuroo’s chest and listening for Kuroo’s heartbeat.  It grounded him, and he clung tight to Kuroo’s shirt, wrinkling the fabric in his fist.  The discomfort was occurring more frequently as of late.

“Hey kitten, you ok?” Kuroo rubbed slow circles into Kenma’s back, craning his neck to look at Kenma’s face.  Kenma’s eyes were closed, his brows furrowed with worry and his breathing was… controlled.  Like he was deliberately trying to keep his breathing even. 

“If one of us were a girl, it wouldn't be this hard.” Kenma muttered, pouting.

“Think I’d look good with boobs?” Kuroo smirked, wincing when Kenma smacked his chest.  “You could probably squish my pecs together for some nice cleavage.”  Kenma smacked him again.  “Oh come onnn… parents give their kids a hard time about this sort of thing all the time.  It’d be worse if one of us were a girl; then they'd disapprove of us living together.  They’d pester us about marriage and kids…”

“But they'd know.” Kenma stated quietly.  “They'd know, they'd _all_ know, and they'd still love us.”

Kuroo sighed through his nose and shifted on the bed so Kenma could rest his head on Kuroo’s shoulder, his body pressed closer into Kuroo’s side.  The additional contact provided a comfort to them both.

“You want them to know about us?” Kuroo asked gently, cradling Kenma’s head in his arm.

“No.  Yes.  I don't know.  I hate lying to them.  It feels worse now than before.”

“Probably because it’s been a secret for a long time now.  It’s finally starting to eat at us a little bit.”

“Us?  You too, Kuro?” Kenma raised his head so their eyes can meet.

“Less than you, probably… but yeah.  I don't like lying to them either.”

It put Kenma a little more at ease to hear that somehow.  To know that he wasn’t the only one feeling uneasy about the deception and the excuses… the awkward trips at home and the uncomfortable lunch dates that felt like interrogations… He wasn’t alone in his worries.  His heart rate calmed a bit, the churning in his stomach receded into a dull ache.  But his mind was still conjuring ugly thoughts, and he murmured,

“I wanna take a nap. Wake me later?”

“Aren't you in the middle of something?” Kuroo asked, pointing at the desk.

“I'll do it later.  I'm tired.  Wake me for dinner?”

But Kuroo just shifted slightly to get comfortable and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply.

“Been a while since we napped together.”

Kenma smiled at that, grateful for Kuroo's almost-mind-reading capabilities.  He snuggled closer and after a while, their hearts began to beat in sync, and Kenma's mind finally quieted for a time.

* * *

 

Even so, everything seemed to set him on edge these days, not just phone calls from parents.  Some days, it was difficult to muster the motivation to go to class or work on his homework at all.  When he finally set down to do it, it came easily enough—he was doing academically fine—but getting started was growing more and more difficult.  He wondered if he was getting sick somehow... maybe it was high time to see a doctor... but making an appointment to go see one was even more daunting, and he didn’t want to do it.  But then, he didn't want to ask Kuroo or his mother to do it for him. 

He tried talking to Shouyou about it, but that went about as well as expected.

"I mean... I was still getting nervous before games even in my third year.  Like... that sick feeling in your stomach, ya know?"  His friend supplied, voice sounding thoughtful.  “It mostly goes away after I throw up or—yeah…”

"But... there's pressure before a match, so it makes sense to be nervous," Kenma mumbled.  "I mean when you get nervous for no reason.  Like, getting nervous before class.”

“Why, did you have a test?  Or forget to do your homework?  I definitely freak out if there's a test.”

“No, I mean for _no_ reason.  I’ve done my homework, there’s no test.  There’s no reason to be nervous, it’s just class as usual, and you know it, but you just feel really… restless and bothered.”

“Oh.  No, I guess I don't know what that's like.  Usually there's a reason.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Kenma muttered, sighing into the receiver and absentmindedly petting Kyari, who was asleep on his lap. 

“Maybe you're coming down with something.”

“Maybe…”

“You've gotta take good care of yourself, Kenma!  Eat a lot, sleep a lot, get outside—when was the last time you played volleyball?”

“You think I might be getting sick, so your advice to me is to go play volleyball,” Kenma repeated slowly, the corners of his lips curling up into a smile.  “Shouyou…”

“I mean that you should stay active is what I meant!” Shouyou sputtered.  “I joined an intermural team here on campus and stuff… it’s not as much fun as playing with Kageyama but… I’d rather have something than nothing.  And Yamaguchi’s in it with me.  Exercise releases emm… em-dolphins, right?”

“Endorphins.”

“That!  The stuff that makes you happy!”

Kenma hummed in acknowledgment, scratching behind Kyari’s ears.  It’s not that he wasn’t happy… there was nothing in his life he could honestly complain about. 

“Have—have you seen Kageyama at all?  How does he look?” The question was quiet, tentative… almost shy.  Kenma wasn’t used to hearing such meekness from his friend.

"I wouldn't really know how Kageyama is looking, I haven't seen him at all," Kenma mumbled into the phone as Shouyou wailed softly on the other end of the line.  "I see more of Tsukishima, to be honest.”

“Really?!  Oh, but I guess he got along pretty well with Kuroo and Bokuto… not sure how, when he could barely make nice to the _senpai_ on our own team!”

“Well, Kuroo and Bokuto are the pushy-uncle-types so…”

“So how's Tsukishima then?  I guess I could tell Yamaguchi what he's been up to.”

“Wouldn’t Yamaguchi already know?  Those two are pretty close, to my memory anyway.”

“They uh… Not sure what happened honestly, but they sort of drifted apart this past summer before Tsukishima left.  Or maybe even before that; it just became more obvious when we graduated.  As far as I know, they don't really talk anymore.  I haven’t really asked Yamaguchi for the details.”

“Maybe that's why Tsukishima seems even more unsociable now,” Kenma mused.  “Kuroo knows better than I do—he talks to him more—but in general it sounds like he's having a bit of trouble adjusting to life here.  I think he's more… lonely than he expected to be.”

“That’s too bad.  I’d tell Kageyama to help but those two never really did get along that well.  Which is stupid, because they’re both going to school away from home, and if they could stop being stubborn for two seconds, they'd probably realize they actually have a lot in common.  I mean, three years as teammates and they could never hold a decent conversation, let alone be friends.”

“It happens,” Kenma shrugged.  He had never been all that sociable with his old team either.  Though, he was fairly certain he could call them all friends to some degree, and he certainly hadn’t disliked any of them.

“Yeah but… how come he gets along so well with Kuroo anyway?”

“Hmm…” Kenma didn’t like thinking about that.  “Kuroo gets along with everyone.” He mumbled and hoped that Shouyou would find that to be sufficient explanation.

“ _I_ get along with everyone!”

“Shouyou, remind me what your first week with Kageyama was like.”

He heard a nervous laugh ring on the other side of the line and then they were both chuckling together, Shouyou’s voice full of deep-seated affection. 

“Oh by the way, I'll be in Tokyo for the upcoming three-day weekend in September.  Kageyama says he'll still have practice so if you've got some time…”

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?  I’d like to see you.”

“Yay!!  I'll let you know when it gets closer to that date.”

“That sounds good.”

They said their goodbyes cheerily, Shouyou taking off for a study session with Yamaguchi because ‘schoolwork is actually important now.’  Kenma stared into the empty apartment, stroking Kyari placidly.  He had nothing crucial that needed doing, but none of his games sounded appealing.  He sent Kuroo a text in his boredom.

 

> _Are you staying late on campus?_

The wait for a reply was stifling somehow, and Kenma shifted in his seat, waking his cat into a yawning stretch.  She gave a light purr before getting up and out of his lap, moving onto nap spot #4 in the apartment.  He watched her go and found himself wishing his own life could be so simple.  He remembered reading somewhere that cats slept on average 18 hours a day.

“That must be nice…” Kenma muttered to no one.

His phone buzzed with a reply from Kuroo, and he grabbed at his phone almost instantly.

 

> _I’m with Tsukki actually.  Out at a café.  I’ll bring an apple pie home for you, don't worry._ ☆⌒(ゝ。∂)

_Again_ , Kenma thought to himself.  Tsukishima had been calling on Kuroo with surprising (and annoying) frequency, usually for random café visits, sometimes shopping for necessities he couldn’t find around the city…

“He goes out on dates with my boyfriend more than I do…”

This combined with the blind dates Mrs. Kuroo sent him on were starting to make Kenma feel more possessive of Kuroo’s time, which wasn't the best reaction, he knew.  Jealousy was an ugly thing, and he liked to believe he was above that.  That he and Kuroo were above it.  He drew up his chat windows again and wondered if Akaashi had some time to spare. 

 

> _How’s it going?_

It was almost an hour later when he received a reply, and Kenma was ashamed when he realized that he had done nothing with his time in that stretch, save for lazily playing with Kyari. 

> _Sorry, I was at archery practice.  It's going great, I know I haven't been in touch.  I hope all is going well with you._
> 
> _Bokuto misses you a lot._
> 
> _Ah… I miss him too, though probably not as much as he misses me.  I’ve just been really busy.  All of my classes have been really interesting and I want to do well in them._
> 
> _I miss you too._
> 
> _I’m sorry.  I'll try to be more available.  At least with answering texts; I know how awful I can be about texting.  How are you and Kuroo?_
> 
> _Kuroo’s busy too.  More shifts at work, and his mom has started making him go on these blind dates with random girls because she's concerned about his love life._
> 
> _I can't imagine you're very happy with that._
> 
> _It’s what it is.  If he doesn't go, she'll get suspicious.  If I'm going to be honest, I'm probably more annoyed with all the extra time he spends with Tsukishima._
> 
> _He is in Tokyo now, isn't he?  I haven't seen him yet—I probably should.  I think he gave up on me after the first few failed attempts to meet up with me.  Kuroo’s very generous, to spend all that time with Tsukishima when he asks.  Are you not invited usually?_

If Kenma was made to think about it, they invited him more often than not, and almost always he turned them down.  Really, he had no one to blame for that but himself. 

 

> _You know I don’t like going out that often._
> 
> _But you’re still jealous of Tsukishima spending time with Kuroo?_
> 
> _No.  Not really.  I trust Kuroo.  But… I just feel really restless lately.  I always feel on edge and stressed even though there's nothing wrong really.  So little things are irritating me._

Kenma wasn’t strictly sure if that qualified as a ‘little’ thing, but he didn’t want Akaashi to think badly of him—especially when he himself understood that Tsukishima hadn’t done anything wrong.

 

> _It’s not school?_
> 
> _No, classes are fine._
> 
> _Do you think you might be coming down with something?_
> 
> _Shouyou said that too.  I don’t really think so, nothing feels physically different.  I just feel stressed.  I’m starting to have trouble sleeping._
> 
> _It might be good to see a doctor at some point.  Whether you recognize them or not, there might be some insecurities you need to work/talk through.  People don’t just get stressed for no reason, there’s usually something behind it._
> 
> _I suppose._

Akaashi’s word was a little more reliable than Shouyou’s if only because he had actually spent a year working in a hospital setting.  But Kenma still didn’t feel like calling to make an appointment.

 

> _As soon as I find some free time, I’ll let you know so we can see each other._
> 
> _You should probably save that time for Bokuto._

As much as Kenma did want to spend some time with Akaashi, he knew Bokuto needed it more.  Maybe the most obvious proof of that was the fact that he and Bokuto now spent an unexpected amount of time together.  Kenma saw Bokuto now more than Kuroo did, and the spiker’s companionship was proving a surprising comfort to the former setter.  And hopefully, Kenma’s companionship was providing some comfort to Bokuto as well.  Still, he knew nothing cheered up Bokuto more than Akaashi’s mere presence.  That or a great game of volleyball.  Neither of which Kenma could provide. 

 

> _I’ll try to make time for both of you._

Kenma felt his mouth twitch into a smile, but something told him not to get his hopes up too high.  He hoped instead that Akaashi would make time for Bokuto in the near future, as he feared Bokuto’s mood swings would only get worse with time the less he saw his boyfriend.  It was already affecting his performance during practice, and Kenma didn’t want to imagine what would happen if he got worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to admit, I wasn't expecting the immediate and plentiful responses to a sequel for Seasons of Love, I'm deeply moved by the readers that want to continue reading for this series, thank you so much for all of your continued support! 
> 
> Just a few notes really... 
> 
> The name of their cat, Kyari, is short for Kyariko, which is literally just how you would spell “calico” using Japanese katakana. But ‘Kyari’ is also the transliteration for the English name ‘Carrie’ and having ‘-ko’ at the end is a common feature for feminine names. Her name is meant to be something along the lines of, ‘Little Carrie,’ but is also literally read ‘Calico.’
> 
> I was very nervous about making a character like Max in all honesty, but I got such positive reviews from the OC's I had made for SoL that I went ahead with it anyway. And if we're talking about characters-created-solely-for-the-sake-of-drama, then Ikeijiri was far worse probably. Haha. And yes, I very purposefully gave him a last name that begins with the same kanji as Akaashi's last name. Just to make life difficult for Bokuto. 
> 
> Format-wise, I tried block quoting the conversations that take place over text to make it clearer which bits of dialogue are text versus internal monologue. I hope it helps? 
> 
> \--
> 
> Twitter: @Luna_Dreaming  
> Tumblr: @nimbus-cloud


	3. Tell me what I'm thinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bokuto's getting worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Per some feedback, I'm going to continue to put texting conversations in block quotes, and this time I've tried bolding one of the participants so it's even clearer who's talking. Bokuto gets to be the bold one this time~

Sloppy. 

Bokuto’s performance was so sloppy, he couldn’t help but get agitated.  Unfortunately, the more agitated he got, the worse his performance got, and it was a vicious cycle that his teammates were quickly growing tired of.  The competitiveness of University volleyball meant that they could easily replace him should he slip—even if another player wasn’t quite as good, as long as they were steady and a better balance for the team, he’d be favored.  And right now, Bokuto was neither steady nor balanced.

His inconsistent plays were frustrating their main setter most of all—Maeda Ryou—whose perfect tosses were going to waste on Bokuto’s muddled spikes.  He wasn’t as patient as Akaashi had been with his blunders, nor was he as understanding as their former main setter Takahashi had been.  But even the most tolerant of setters would get fed up with it eventually, and neither Akaashi nor Takahashi had had to deal with Bokuto like _this._   No one needed to tell him; Bokuto knew it was all his fault.

“Sorry—I’ll get it next time,” Bokuto panted as he landed another spike out-of-bounds.  They were in the middle of their second set in a practice match with Nittaidai and trailing behind by three points after losing their first set. 

“Next time?  You’re kidding.” Maeda scoffed, shoving past Bokuto with a rough bump of their shoulders.  “I’m not tossing to you while you’re like this—Coach should’ve benched you last set.” 

“Hey look, I’m sorry—“ Bokuto grabbed Maeda’s wrist, but was abruptly pushed back with a scowl. 

“ _Sorry_ doesn’t cut it, you’ve been sucking for weeks, just do better!”  Ryou hissed through gritted teeth. 

Their teammates looked at each other awkwardly, wondering who should step in and how.  Eventually, Haruyama—now captain—stepped forward, though mediation wasn’t exactly his specialty.  That had always been Takahashi’s forte, but he wasn’t on the team anymore.

“Hey guys, let’s not do this now.  We’re in the middle of a match.”

“A match we’re losing because of him!” Ryou pointed an accusing finger at Bokuto.  “Bench him, and give me a better wing spiker!” 

“You don’t run the team, Maeda,” Haruyama warned, his voice growing menacing.

“The setter controls the pace of the other players,” Maeda countered, surprisingly defiant for a second year who had only just been made a regular on the team.  “I can work with everyone else on this team, but not _him_ , and not when he’s in one of his damned mood swings!” 

“Maeda’s right,” Bokuto cut in, biting his lip.  “His tosses are fine, I’m the one screwing them up.”

Haruyama sighed heavily, sending a questioning gaze to the Coach to ask for a replacement.  The Coach turned to one of the reserve spikers, calling in a second year and noting the change to the referee. 

The player change was flagged in, and Bokuto slumped off the court, his pride battered and bruised. 

“Good riddance,” Maeda scoffed under his breath. 

“Look, you—“ Bokuto turned swiftly on his heel, grabbing at the collar of Maeda’s shirt roughly. 

“Bokuto, _stop_!” Haruyama shouted.

“Whoah!”

The referee whistled madly, and several of their teammates darted forward to pull the two of them apart.  It wasn’t difficult—Bokuto had no intention of really hurting the setter, but there was no denying the fact that he had... snapped.  Their opponents from Nittaidai watched awkwardly from the other side of the net, all eyes on Bokuto, whose face was heating up with shame. 

“Bokuto,” his Coach called calmly. 

“Sorry…” he muttered under his breath—to the team if not Maeda—and dragged himself off the court.  Head bowed low, he staggered over to his Coach.  “Coach, I—“

“You’re suspended.”

“Wh-what?!”

“I told you to get it together.  Until you do, you’re not stepping foot onto this court.  I won’t have you participating in practice either.  The team needs consistency.  I was hoping you wouldn’t let it get this bad, Koutarou.  I’m disappointed.” 

“C-coach…”

“Go get changed and grab your things.”

It felt like bricks were being spiked into his face—he had never been forbidden from playing before.  Being benched temporarily was one thing, but suspension?!  Bokuto felt the air rush from his lungs as tears welled in his eyes, his face hot from shame and anger and sadness… and all of it directed at himself because really there was no one else to blame, was there?  He was the one who couldn’t pull himself together, and his team had no use for a player like that.  He wasn’t in high school anymore, this wasn’t child’s play—he had spoken to scouts for the National team only a couple of months ago!  Even knowing everything on the line, he had been so pathetic, and now there were consequences to pay. 

“I-I’m… Understood.  Th-thank you, Coach.” He choked out, struggling to hold back sobs. 

He gave a low, apologetic bow to the game referee and the Nittaidai team before running out of the gym back to the locker rooms, the tears flowing freely once he was outside. 

“Sh-shit…” he sobbed into his jersey as he sat in the locker room alone, sniffling and hiccupping into the fabric.  “Damn it…”

“Bokuto- _senpai_?” 

A voice jolted him out of his misery, and for a split second, he thought it had been Akaashi’s voice calling to him.  But when he looked up, he saw Max instead standing in the doorway of the locker room.

“M-Max…”

He wasn’t a regular, he wasn’t needed on the court—had he pulled himself away from the rest of the team just to check on him? 

Wiping furiously at his eyes and coughing to clear his throat, he forced a smile as best he could.

“Sorry you had to see that.  I’m a horrible example to look up to.”

“That’s not—“

“Coach is right.  The team doesn’t need me like this.  I need to figure my shit out.” 

“ _Senpai_ …”

Max stepped into the locker room, closing the door quietly behind him and sat on the opposite bench, leaning forward with eyes full of concern. 

“If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.” 

“Aka—“ and he wasn’t sure if he had been about to say Max’s name or Akaashi’s.  “I’ll... Thanks.  I’ll call you… or something.”

“Please do.”  Max insisted quietly.

Bokuto couldn’t help but see Akaashi behind those eyes somehow, and it made his heart swell, but it also frightened him to his core—was he so desperate for the attention?  Kenma and everyone else trusted him not to do anything to betray Akaashi's faith in him, but he could feel himself wavering, and the guilt was palpable.

“You should get back,” Bokuto whispered.  “Thank you for checking on me.” 

With a quiet nod of his head, Max left Bokuto to his thoughts.  Jumbled as they were, Bokuto clearly knew he needed to talk to Akaashi—if not Akaashi, then Kenma.  Or maybe talking to Kenma first would even be best.  He wasn’t exactly looking forward to disappointing Akaashi by letting him know that he had just been suspended from the team.  Drawing up his contacts, he opened his chat log with Kenma and texted:

> **_Do you like Mac’s Apple Pies?_ **

The reply was swift; Kenma was fast at texting and fast at replies. 

> _They’re not my favorite.  But I like them._
> 
> _**Wanna meet me at the Mac’s by Ebisu station?  I’ll buy you two.**   _
> 
> _Where is it?_
> 
> **_East exit side, by the Docomo._ **
> 
> _Kuroo’s actually free tonight.  Do you want me to bring him?_

Bokuto wondered how much Kenma told Kuroo about their conversations… did Kuroo know about Max?  He knew it was bound to come up in conversation.  But in the end, anything he told Kenma he could tell Kuroo, couldn’t he? 

> **_Yeah.  That’d be nice._ **

* * *

 

“Suspension?!”

Kuroo and Kenma repeated in unison, both gawking at Bokuto, albeit with different degrees of shock on their expressions.  Kenma had just managed to raise his eyebrows, but his volume remained at acceptable indoor levels.  By contrast, Kuroo would probably require assistance popping his eyes back into his head. 

“But you didn't actually… hurt Maeda or anything, yeah?”

“I’d hope you know me well enough to not have to ask that…” Bokuto groaned, only a little hurt by the accusation.  “He’s fine, all I did was grab him… like… ya know, by the collar.”

Bokuto demonstrated by grabbing the collar of his own shirt in his fists, miming an assailant pulling at his body. 

“Scary stuff,” Kenma remarked sarcastically, stealing one of Kuroo’s fries from his tray.  “But suspension?”

“I've also been sucking in general.” Bokuto moaned, shoulders slumping.  “Coach was probably already thinking about doing it and this was just the last straw.”

“Coach can be a bit tough to read…” Kuroo mused, hand to his chin.  “How long are you suspended for?”

“Until I get my shit together.”

“So that could mean either days or years…” Kenma mumbled, stealing another fry.

“I’ve been out of it for weeks already—I don't know if it's that easy to pull myself together.  Argh… I dunno.” Bokuto slumped forward so his forehead rested on the table between them.  “Maybe I should've quit too.  Maybe I don't have what it takes to go pro…”

Kuroo and Kenma exchange a look between them, flicked their eyes in unison from each other to Bokuto’s dejected figure, then nodded their heads in silent agreement.

“OWW-OW!!”  Bokuto screeched as Kuroo whacked his head where it lay and Kenma kicked his shin under the table.  “Geez… don't team up on me like that!”

“Don’t be stupid, Bokuto!” Kuroo huffed, crossing his arms.  “If any of us were ever going to go pro, it was going to be you!”

“But, I can’t even handle the stress of what’s going on right now.  Being pro means a lot of extra pressure…”  Bokuto pouted, poking his index fingers together.

“But volleyball isn’t what’s stressing you out,” Kenma pointed out.  “Your athletic performance is suffering because you’re being stressed out by _other_ things.  The problem isn’t your skills.”

“It’s your head.” Kuroo poked him square in the forehead with a scowl. 

“Have you told Akaashi about this?” Kenma asked around another stolen fry.

“I mean… I just got suspended today, and I'm pretty sure he's busy with something or other.” Bokuto muttered, flicking at the straw in his drink.  “I feel like I shouldn't bother him with this.”

“Pretty sure your boyfriend would want to know about the major occurrences in your life, Bokuto.” Kuroo chided with furrowed brows.  “This isn't an update about what you had for breakfast or what you're wearing—this is a big thing.”

“Even if he knows, what's he gonna be able to do about it?  He’d still be too busy to help, and then it would just stress him out to know I'm failing the one thing I'm supposed to be good at.”

“What's going on with you two?  Did you have a fight or something?”

“You have to at least talk to each other to have a fight…” Bokuto grumbled.

“Ohh,” recognition dawned in Kuroo’s eyes. 

He shot a look at Kenma, who shrugged knowingly and took another fry.  Kuroo sighed and passed the remainder of them onto Kenma’s tray.  Honestly, if he had wanted fries, he could've just said so and Kuroo would've bought him some.

“So you think because you two haven't had a chance to talk much that talking _less_ is gonna help?” Kuroo reiterated with a raised eyebrow.  “You know it doesn't work like that, right?”

“I have you guys to talk to… and Max.”

“Who the hell is Max?”

“A new first-year who’s filling in for Akaashi apparently,” Kenma supplemented.

“Kenma—“  Bokuto choked.

“I didn't mean it like _that_.  I meant as a supportive team _kohai_ type.  You're the one who said he reminded you of Akaashi in a lot of ways.”

“Am I the only one who thinks not-telling-Akaashi is a bad idea?” Kuroo asked incredulously. 

“Couples don't have to tell each other every little thing,” Kenma murmured in Bokuto’s defense as well as his own—he didn't vocalize his distaste of Kuroo’s blind dates and all the extras time spent with Tsukishima after all.  He knew his feelings were borne from an unfair desire to monopolize Kuroo’s time, and he felt Kuroo didn't need to know how ugly his thoughts could get.

“This isn't a little thing.”

“Bokuto’s right, it's not like Akaashi could help much.   I think he should talk to Akaashi for different reasons, but it doesn't hurt Akaashi to not know about the suspension.” Personally, Kenma thought Akaashi deserved to know about Max instead, especially since it now seemed that Bokuto intended on spending more time with him during his time away from the rest of the team.

“Partners want to know what's going on in each other's lives.  Or they should.  Honestly right now, I can't tell who's worse—Bokuto or Tsukki.” Kuroo threw up his hands in exasperation.

“Why, what's going on with Tsukki?” Bokuto asked curiously—he had almost forgotten the blond had moved to Tokyo recently. 

“Hey, we're focusing on you right now,” Kuroo snapped.

“Aw, come on!” Bokuto groaned.  “I'm tired of talking about me now, gimme the dirt on Tsukki!”

“I wouldn't mind hearing about Tsukki,” Kenma shrugged, wondering if the blond’s ears were burning. 

“It feels like the two of you have formed some bizarre partnership while I wasn’t looking…” Kuroo spoke slowly, eyes narrowed and darting between the two.  “Since when do you always take his side?”  He directed the question to Kenma.

“I don't really,” Kenma shrugged.  “You _have_ been busy though.”

Kuroo wasn’t sure if that was meant to be an accusation or a simple statement of fact—given the topic of conversation involved couples not communicating or spending too much time apart.  But it wasn't exactly the time or place to ask if Kenma was harboring any ill feelings. 

"In any case, it's not my place to talk about Tsukishima's issues.  You guys wanna know, ask him yourself."

"Because he's _sooo_ open and sociable..." Kenma smirked.

"Yeah, and because he likes us _sooo_ much, especially me." Bokuto added, sniggering.  Kenma soon joined in with giggles of his own, and then the two were laughing almost in unison.

"He just..." Kuroo sighed, running a hand through his hair.  "He left Miyagi on bad terms with that freckled kid—he won't tell me details, even now.  Obviously they were best friends, but maybe there was something more, maybe there _should_ have been something more... either way, he's mopey and pining." 

"Like someone else we know," Kenma added.

"Hey, I haven't screwed anything up with Akaashi—just the team."  Bokuto was quick to defend his relationship—in part because he understood its current deteriorated state. 

Kuroo's phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to find texts from Tsukishima. 

"His ears are burning," Kuroo smirked.  "You guys wanna meet up with him?" 

"Think he'd be okay with that?" Bokuto asked wryly, stealing one of Kuroo's fries from Kenma's tray. 

"Let's call it character building.  He needs to spend time with more people outside of his comfort zone."  Kuroo grinned as he texted his reply. 

"Now we're definitely ambushing him." Kenma mused, smacking Bokuto's hand away from his stolen fries. 

"We'll buy him a strawberry dessert of some kind and he'll be fine.  His sweet tooth is worse than yours," Kuroo said, poking Kenma's cheek.

Kenma wasn't sure he liked Kuroo cataloguing and comparing his traits with Tsukishima's, even though he knew it was meant to be a harmless statement about a friend.  As Kuroo resumed texting the blond, Kenma rose from the booth, fishing his wallet out of his pocket.

"I'm grabbing another apple pie."

"Oh, my treat!" Bokuto sprang up from the booth, urging Kenma to sit back down.  "I wanted to get some more to eat anyway." 

"If you're sure..." Kenma mumbled, but Bokuto was pushing him by the shoulders back into the booth, and he wasn't really going to try and argue the point. 

"Definitely, don't worry about it." 

Kuroo watched Bokuto take off downstairs toward the order counters, then remarked, "You two definitely get along better now." 

"I guess."  Kenma shrugged. 

"So instead of telling Akaashi what's going on in his life, Bokuto's coming to you, I see." 

"Like how Tsukishima goes to you, you mean?" Kenma bit back.

"What are you—it's not the same situation." 

"Akaashi's busy.  I can't get him on the phone or get him to reply to all of my texts—much less _see_ him, so I can understand why Bokuto would feel like Akaashi wouldn't have the time to spare.  So he's been talking to me about stuff, how is that different from Tsukishima and you?"

"Bokuto and Akaashi are actually in a relationship.  Tsukki and his freckled one-that-got-away are in some weird limbo where they're definitely not lovers, and might not even be friends anymore.  Bokuto and Akaashi need maintenance; Tsukki needs to clear the rubble and rebuild."  Kuroo's voice was firm—he never really lost the air of being a captain. 

"So what, you can take all this time to clean up Tsukishima's life for him, but I shouldn't encourage Bokuto to talk to me when he needs a friend?"  Kenma snapped. 

Kuroo was taken aback by Kenma's sudden hostility, and lowered his voice, "Are we both still talking about the same thing?  Because I'm talking about Bokuto reaching out to his partner, with whom he's been in a pretty serious relationship for years... and I think you're on a different plane, where this isn't about Bokuto, it's about my spending more time with Tsukishima than you'd like."

It was easy to forget—given how dorky Kuroo's day-to-day behavior was—that he was actually really very smart.  And Kenma sometimes hated how perceptive it made him.  It felt patronizing to have his own bad behavior relayed back to him as if he were a child, who didn't already know what he had done wrong.  He knew Kuroo was right, he was almost always right; Kenma was just being selfish.  But knowing it didn't make him feel any less agitated or ignored. 

"I sympathize with Bokuto is all I'm saying," Kenma muttered quietly, face down.  His face was burning. 

"Kenma, if you didn't like me spending so much time with Tsukishima—"

"Don't say it like that," Kenma whispered.  "It sounds like I'm the one being ridiculous—and _I_ know I am.  I just don't want to hear it.  Not from you." 

"Kenma, I wasn't going to accuse you of being ridiculous," Kuroo insisted, drawing closer to him in the booth.  "I was going to _apologize_ for making you feel neglected." 

"I'm not neglected," Kenma said bitterly.  "Bokuto's _actually_ being ignored and left behind; you're just trying to be a good _senpai_ and help a guy who's away from all his family and friends... I'm just being unreasonable and greedy."  It felt so ugly to say aloud even if he already knew it in his head.  "You can't say I'm in the right here." 

Kuroo seemed to consider his words carefully, lips pursed in thought.  But even as the gears in his head were turning, he pulled Kenma closer to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. 

"It's not about 'wrong' or 'right.'" He finally spoke.  "It's about how you feel.  I made you feel a certain way—a bad way.  And... I'm sorry about that.  I'll try not to do it again, but it would help me if you told me how you were feeling.  Even if you think you're in the wrong about it." 

Kenma sighed.  Kuroo really was almost _always_ right.  And kind.  And understanding.  And entirely undeserving of Kenma's bratty petulance.  He leaned into Kuroo's side, now sorrier than ever for his outburst.  Though not sorry about stealing his fries, he thought as he grabbed another one. 

"I mean, I might be a little flattered that you can feel something even remotely close to jealousy.  Makes me feel wanted." Kuroo smirked, trying to relieve the tension.  "But seriously, you see what it's doing to Bokuto and Tsukki; talk to me if something's bothering you." 

"I'm sorry... I'll be fine.  I promise."  Kenma muttered, poking playfully into Kuroo's side.  _I have to be better._

"Well don't you two look cozy!" Bokuto chirped as he returned to the table, his tray laden with another burger meal set and an apple pie for Kenma.  He passed the dessert across the table, and Kenma took it gratefully with two hands. 

"Thanks."

"Seriously, at least some of us are happy," Bokuto chimed while unwrapping his burger, his words genuinely sincere.  "You guys give me hope." 

"Well that's honestly flattering," Kuroo smiled, moving his hand from Kenma's shoulder to his waist. 

Kenma should have thought it was flattering too.  Instead, it made his stomach churn uncomfortably with nerves and guilt. 

* * *

 

> **_Hey._ **

Bokuto frowned at his screen the instant he sent his text.  Too short.  Too simple.

> **_Got some time?_ **

Probably still too simple.  Did a sentence like that convey any sense of urgency?  Maybe he should have tried something like: _I really need to talk to you._

No, actually that would be too strong.  If he said it like that, he'd just make Akaashi worry.  Nobody wanted to open their phone to a text line that.  Too ominous.  Maybe if he had said something like: _Hey, just wondering what you're up to… No biggie, no need to worry about me or anything, but I would really like to talk to you if maybe you've got some time… No pressure, again, don't worry about me, there's nothing wrong or anything._

Too long.  And the more he said not to worry, the more suspicious it sounded!  And anyway, it still lacked urgency. 

Bokuto lay in his bed, glaring at his silent, non-dinging phone.  He held it above his face, making sure it had enough signal where he was.  Surely it was too late in the evening for Akaashi to be stuck at archery practice…  Maybe he was out getting dinner?  No, he lived with his parents, he didn't have to go out for food.  Which meant that if he was in fact out getting food, he was doing it with people—friends.  Probably friends from school, maybe from club…

“Tch!  He has time for them but not for me?” Bokuto muttered into his empty room.  “Maybe I should just call, remind him I exist while he's out having fun with—“

His phone buzzed suddenly, and Bokuto promptly dropped it on his face.

“Oww…” he groaned as he unlocked the screen, immediately checking his messages.

> _I’m working on an assignment that doesn't require too much attention.  What's up?_
> 
> **_Nothing much._ **

Bokuto texted immediately, then smacked his face.  Now it was going to be harder to bring up the subject later.  How was anyone supposed to renege on ‘nothing’s wrong’ with, ‘no wait, kidding.  Actually there is something a little wrong.’?  He began typing again.

> **_I just miss you, you know?_ **

Maybe it sounded a little pathetic, but since he couldn’t bring himself to bring up the topic of his suspension over text (how lame would that be?), it would have to do.

> _I miss you too._

Came the reply.  It made Bokuto’s heart leap.

> **_Can we meet up soon?  I feel like I really need to see your face._ **
> 
> _Let me check._

Bokuto twiddled his thumbs around on his screen waiting for Akaashi’s reply—he took sooo long to text.  At least compared to Kenma, who seemed to always have his phone ready at a moment’s notice and texted at lightning speed somehow.  All proper kanji and everything.

> _I can be free next weekend probably.  No major exams coming up, and I only have archery practice on Sunday._
> 
> **_Great!  Yeah, perfect!  So, next Sunday then?  You promise?_ **

Bokuto gave a tiny fist pump in his bed, grinning at his phone.

> _It’s a date.  I’ve just put it in my phone._
> 
> **_Yay!!!  Ahhhh… Akaashi I can’t wait to see you!!!_ **
> 
> _Is something wrong?  You seem especially agitated._
> 
> **_Ah… well… Yeah actually.  But, it might be better to talk about it in person._ **
> 
> _Really?  That sounds serious._

It did, didn’t it… And here he had been trying to make Akaashi NOT worry.  Clearly, he was doing a phenomenal job. 

> **_It’s uh… something I have to figure out for myself mostly.  I've just been really bummed so that's making it difficult._ **
> 
> _Is that so?  Well, if it’s something that can wait that long, I suppose it can’t be too dire._

Crap… Akaashi was right.  If he didn't get it figured out before they met, it'd mean he’d go at least the next 9-10 days without stepping foot in team practice, and that was definitely gonna hurt, not help.  At the very least, he would need to practice on his own somewhere so that he wouldn’t be out of shape when he returned to the team.  IF he did.  That was feeling like a pretty big ‘if’ right now. 

> **_Hey Akaashi… Do you think I’m cut out to go pro?_ **
> 
> _I think you know my thoughts on that matter already._
> 
> **_Yeah, but realistically speaking.  And not in the I’m-your-boyfriend-so-I-have-to-support-your-dreams sort of way.  I mean honest-to-god, pro-athlete.  Me?_ **
> 
> _Do you think I would just go along with something like that because we're dating?  That I wouldn't be honest with you?  In any case, it’s not just me who thinks so, weren’t you the one elated because scouts came to talk to you before the semester started?_
> 
> **_Yeah but… they don’t know about the mood swings._ **
> 
> _Are you having those again?  Is that what this is about?_

Damn it.  Wasn’t this the conversation that was supposed to wait until next weekend?  Why was he so horrible at _not_ talking about the things he said he wanted to wait to talk about? 

> **_Ahhh… don’t worry about it.  I’ll tell you later.  How’s archery?  Must be pretty different from volleyball._ **

He’d only seen Akaashi holding a bow once, but the image had imprinted pretty firmly into his brain.  Akaashi looked absolutely magnificent in a _kyudogi_ and _hakama_.  The calm, composed concentration that had made him such an excellent setter made him an even better archer—Bokuto had been mesmerized watching him carefully firing off arrows with grace and poise.  Though a part of his mind still tried to argue that Akaashi looked _best_ on a volleyball court and sending him tosses, it was clear on all counts that Akaashi had found a more-than-acceptable alternative. 

> _They tell me I have good form, but it's still hard to make the arrow go where I want it to.  Not as easy as it was with a ball._
> 
> **_Yeah but you've only been at it for a month now, I'd cut yourself some slack.  Maybe pretend the target is my heart and the arrow is your love?  I bet that'd definitely help!_ **
> 
> _Advice like that, do you actually want me to improve?_

They spent the next hour texting back and forth, with Akaashi providing most of the conversation—about his new classes, his attempted extra-curricular activities, his professors, his classmates… And when Akaashi said he was tired and needed to head off to bed, Bokuto wished him a good night and sweet dreams, texted _I love you_ and sent as many text hearts and love emojis as he could find. 

But after his phone went silent, Bokuto found he was still restless.  He had finally managed some communication with Akaashi... but they hadn't really talked, had they?  Bokuto had always found texting wildly inadequate—he so needed to hear and see the other person.

It occurred to him then that most of the athletes lived in the dorms… having come from all over the country and finding it one of the easier housing options—though obviously not the cheapest.  He wondered if Max lived in the dorms too?

> **_Hey Max, you awake?_ **

He just wanted to meet him as a friend—as a teammate.  That was all.  Bokuto repeated it to himself while waiting for the reply.

> _Senpai!  It’s only 11 or so.  I don’t normally sleep until after midnight._
> 
> **_Cool, I didn't wake you.  Do you live in the dorms?_ **
> 
> _An apartment nearby actually._
> 
> **_Wanna hang out?_ **
> 
> _Now?_
> 
> **_Just a thought.  It’s late, never mind._ **

Bokuto sighed into his empty room.  That was probably for the best anyway. But soon his phone dinged again, and he opened it to find:

> _Where?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The responses to this fic have been really interesting, but I suppose it's natural for drama to fuel more response. I feel like I'm wielding so much power to be honest. Hahaha, but I enjoy being able to engage with you all about the story--A few more of you have found me on other platforms so we can chat, and I love talking to all of you.
> 
> Mac's = Macdonalds. Japanese people call it 'makku' for short. 
> 
> I should maybe clarify now so that people don't get their hopes up, but the Tsukishima subplot doesn't get resolved in this story. The focus remains fixed on Bokuto and Kenma, hence why I didn't add Tsukkiyama as a tag. Sorry~


	4. Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo comes to a realization while out on one of his forced blind dates, Bokuto slips, and one thing leads to another.

As much as Kuroo hated the blind dates, at least his mother financed them for him by giving him the money for the restaurant food.  She always gave him enough money to buy food for himself and his date, including dessert, and almost always he had plenty left-over to bring home food or dessert for Kenma too.  And that was definitely his silver lining because he pretty much hated everything else about the outings, even with the nicest and prettiest girls.  Poor things.  It wasn't their fault he was already madly in love.  Not to mention the vast majority of them were awful with small talk and very rarely did they have anything in common to talk about.

He sighed, fiddling with his shirt collar and lazily flipping through the menu.  He'd already asked the waitress for a drink and it was due for a refill.  According to his phone, his date of this particular evening was about fifteen minutes late.  Or maybe she had stood him up.  He wouldn't mind that actually—but he felt he should still wait a little more before attempting to leave or order food.  Fifteen minutes was a forgivable delay—there were times when he waited on Kenma almost an hour. 

_Well… Kenma’s always an exception._

After twenty minutes, he could tell the waitress was getting fidgety about him ordering something, so he raised his hand to hail her over to his table when he caught sight of déjà vu walking in through the door. 

She saw him almost instantly—mostly due to his already-raised hand—and gave a small wiggle of her fingers before shuffling over to his table, nervously attempting to tuck her hair behind her ears. 

"Uh...hi." Kuroo was usually more eloquent, more charming.  But in his defense, he had just been ambushed by an essentially female version of Kenma.  Well, high-school Kenma.  She even had the dark roots with the bleached hair—though her hair was more of a light-brown shade as opposed to Kenma’s former blond.  She was also about Kenma’s previous height.  Kuroo tried very much not to think of Kenma wearing his date’s current outfit. 

"Hi," she muttered softly, her eyes flicking to his only briefly. 

"I'm Kuroo.  Kuroo Tetsurou."  He stood abruptly and offered his hand for her to shake. 

"I'm Kishino Hana.  My friends call me Rie...” 

She grasped the tips of his fingers in the smallest handshake of his life before taking her seat at the table, and Kuroo quickly followed suit.  His waitress walked over—relief plainly written on her face—and asked about her drink order.  Quietly, Hana—Rie requested an orange juice, and Kuroo ordered an appetizer to get them started to placate their server—he understood her agitation. 

“So…” Kuroo started awkwardly, rubbing his knees under the table.  “Guess I’ll start.”

“Start?”

“Introductions.  You know, name, age, occupation…” Kuroo gave a nervous chuckle when her eyes continued to stare at him, confused. 

“You just told me your name.  Your mother told me your age and that you’re a third-year student at Tokai.  Also apparently that your English is pretty good too.” 

“Oh?  What else did my dear mother tell you about me?”

“That you used to play volleyball and that you currently live with your best friend.”  She shrugged, pulling out her phone and laying it face up on the table. 

"All right.  I guess that about sums me up.  What about you?"  Kuroo laughed.

"Second year.  Kougakuin."

"Wow.  So you're into engineering then?" 

"I'm good at it is all," she shrugged. 

"And?"  Kuroo pressed after several seconds of silence.

"And... um."  Her eyes darted to her phone.  "I don't get out much.  And I don't know anything about volleyball.  I hate sports." 

"Is my mom now telling girls they need to be volleyball experts in order to win me over?" Kuroo smirked, though his joke was lost on his date.

"I'm not trying to win you over." She corrected.

“Fair enough... You don’t want to be here at all, do you?” Kuroo asked with a grimace, leaning back in his seat and noting her slouched posture, the way she pouted her lips in slight annoyance at her surroundings… her clothes looked new and uncomfortable—likely bought specifically for the evening... maybe because she didn’t have anything appropriate already in her closet.  Something told him she wasn't the type to go on dates either.

“Not really…” she admitted, fidgeting with the ends of her sleeves.  “But neither do you.” 

Kuroo bit his lip.  He’d had a version of this conversation before with a couple of the other girls, but none quite so candidly.  And usually at the end of the evening not at the beginning. 

"Got me there."

"So."

Several moments passed between them in awkward silence.  Rie spent it looking between her phone and her glass of water or out at the restaurant, tucking her hair behind her ear, then changing her mind and untucking it.  She picked at her fingernails, scratching at the cracked, flaking polish.  Kuroo, for his part, kept his eyes fixed on her, which kept her from looking anywhere near him. 

“You remind me a lot of my best friend actually.”  He admitted wryly. 

“Your mom said the same thing.  That I reminded her of Kenta.” 

“Kenma.” He corrected.

“Apparently that’s what she thought would make a good match,” she shrugged.

Kuroo felt a few gears click into place—gears he had never paid attention to before, hadn’t even realized they were there, trying to turn into a thought.  But now that he had thought it, he couldn’t unthink it. 

_She knows…_

“So if you’re not interested in any of this, why are _you_ going along with it?”

Rie’s question jolted him out of his slightly-panicked thoughts. 

“Uh… Well… My mom worries.  I thought it would make her feel better for me to just _go_ on these dates at least.  Why did you agree to it?”

She was silent for a long minute, ignoring even how the server came by to drop off her drink and their appetizer, staring blankly into the air just above Kuroo’s head.  Finally, she shrugged and mumbled.

“Didn’t really have a reason not to—my mom was just as pushy about it as yours.  Free dinner’s nice.” 

Kuroo laughed at that, loud and long, and even Rie managed a small giggle.  They both felt the tension dissipate between them then. 

“Okay, so.  Neither of us are looking for anything; shall we just have a nice free dinner, courtesy of my mom, and have a no-pressure kind of evening?” 

“Sure.” She smiled slightly, biting her lip as her phone buzzed on the table. 

“If you really want to check your phone, you can.”  Kuroo assured her.

“You’re sure?”

“You don’t wanna answer your message?”

“It’s not a message, it’s my game.” 

Kuroo closed his eyes in quiet understanding, smiling all-too-fondly.  _Of course it was a game._

“Maybe at least go through the menu and pick something to eat first then.” 

“Oh.  Right.”  She grabbed the booklet off the table and began flipping through it—very quickly—she clearly had something already in mind.  “This one.  I’m ready to order whenever.” 

“Guess I’ll order then.” 

Kuroo relented, raising an arm to flag down their server and grinning as Rie reached immediately for her phone, hunching over in her seat to focus on the small, bright screen.  At least she played with the sound off, unlike someone else he knew.  The more he watched her, the more she reminded him of Kenma—a little bolder, a little more confident, maybe.  More awkward, certainly. 

_Apparently that’s what she thought would make a good match._

Her earlier words rang in his mind repeatedly throughout their meal—there was no way his mother didn’t know.  The dates, the phone calls… she was pressuring him to tell her the truth, poking and prodding… _testing_ him.  People used to call him a ‘provocation expert,’ but no one excelled at it quite like his mother.  And _he_ had to get it from somewhere.  He was just kicking himself in the head for not realizing it sooner.  So, all right.  There was a conversation he was going to have to have with his mother in the near future… the question was how to broach the subject. 

“This was nice,” Rie told him at the end of their evening together as they prepared to go off to their separate train platforms at the station.  “You’re a nice guy.  If I had been more interested… Maybe if _you_ had been, I could’ve seen myself dating you.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Kuroo smiled.  “If I weren’t already dating Kenma…”

“I thought so.”  She nodded her head thoughtfully at his confession.  “But even then… I don’t think you’re interested in women at all.” 

“I’ve… never really tested that theory.”  He laughed.  “But you might be right.” 

“I usually am.  Well… uh, take care.  I guess.” 

She held out her hand somewhat hesitantly, and Kuroo gripped it very lightly in the tiniest handshake he could muster.  She smiled at that, then turned to leave, whipping out her phone as soon as she was at the top of the stairs, engrossed in her ongoing mobile game—something with swords, if he remembered correctly.  Kuroo chuckled as he watched her wobble between the crowds, then tucked his hands firmly into his pockets before heading home, making sure to buy a treat for Kenma on the way.

* * *

 

Sometimes Kenma wondered if it was time to start being a little more active somewhere in his daily life.  Without the mandated volleyball practices from high school, he knew he had grown steadily out of shape.  Not that it had mattered to him all that much—he hated exerting himself anyway.  But even if he didn't care that his previously toned muscles had now grown soft and squishy, the little pouch he was starting to develop on his lower stomach bothered him maybe a little more than he cared to admit.  He had never thought he cared about his looks, but maybe that was because he had had the luxury of being active—and subsequently thin—his whole life.  Now that it was gone... he wondered if it bothered Kuroo at all—Kuroo, who had only recently quit volleyball so still plenty muscular... Most likely not.  Still, he poked at the extra flesh on his tummy as he exited the shower, frowning and ignoring how Kyari was rubbing cat fur all over his just-washed legs. 

So when his phone buzzed with a text from Bokuto asking if he wanted to meet him that afternoon, he hesitated a little less than usual before accepting.  Especially since the invitation had mentioned maybe participating in a bit of volleyball practice. 

Kenma still owned all of his practice equipment, and his volleyball shoes, while worn, were still good.  His fingers were softer now, no longer calloused from constantly laying hands upon the leather of a volleyball, but when he made the motions silently in his room with his arms, he found he still had the muscle memory for setting a ball.  Mostly.  He needed to clip his nails a bit first though.

He met Bokuto in the smaller Tokai gymnasium after lunch, his old gym bag around his shoulders. 

"What kind of ace would I be if I didn't stay on top of my form while on suspension, right?" Bokuto beamed, already sweating. 

Kenma didn't want to know how long the man had been there before him. 

"I'm pretty out of shape..." Kenma muttered, eyeing the rippling muscles of Bokuto's arms—they'd gotten bigger since he last saw them over a year ago. 

"You still remember how to set a ball, right?" Bokuto grinned, throwing a ball in his direction. 

The second it hit his fingers, Kenma felt the doubt leave him.  His hands wrapped around the skin of the yellow and blue sphere, his fingers pressing lightly into it to test the air pressure.  Yes, this was familiar. 

"I can set to you." He said quietly with a smile. 

"Let's do it!"

For the next two hours, the two ran and jumped around the gym, Kenma setting toss after toss for Bokuto to spike, eventually catching the ace's rhythm.  His pace was easy enough to catch if Kenma paid careful attention to his expression—they had always been a bit of a giveaway as to what sort of jump he would take.  By the end of the first hour, they were in near-perfect sync. 

"My body remembers better than I thought it would," Kenma admitted as he fixed his ponytail.  "Still could use more cardio though probably."  He wiped the sweat from his neck using the collar of his shirt, and Bokuto chugged a mouthful of water down before laughing. 

"Like riding a bike.  You've still got it though!  Right up there with the best of them, and I've played with some stellar setters in my time!"

"Thanks." Even if Bokuto was only saying it to be nice, Kenma appreciated the encouragement.  Bokuto really was the sort of player who made everyone on the court smile.  "You're not the worst player to toss to either." 

Bokuto laughed, scratched his head, then held out his fist for Kenma to bump. 

"Thanks for practicing with me—even if this one time is a fluke." 

Kenma returned the fist bump lightly.

"Well, you're buying snacks after this, right?" 

Bokuto did, in fact, pay for snacks afterwards.  They found a quiet area and the nearby Sengaku Temple and strolled leisurely around while re-hydrating themselves.  Even if Kenma didn't like exerting himself, there was always the pleasant adrenaline rush that came after strenuous physical activity, and the exhaustion that followed was usually calming in a way. 

"Semesters with no-Friday classes are the best!" Bokuto cheered.  "Permanent three-day weekends, you know?  Well, _you_ know, obviously.  Too bad for Kuroo." 

"He doesn't have classes on Wednesday usually," Kenma supplemented.  "But he has this class he really likes that meets on Tuesdays and Fridays, so that’s where his Fridays went."

The three-day weekends hadn't mattered much to Kenma since he wasn't the type to go out much—even without the extra day he had plenty of time to get his assignments done usually. 

"Is his mom still making him go on those weird dates?"  Bokuto asked tentatively.

"Kuro says he won't need to anymore.  I dunno... He was acting funny after the last one he came back from a couple nights ago.  I might have been imagining things, but... he might have actually enjoyed himself, maybe."  Kenma crinkled the plastic of his water bottle lightly in his hand.

"Maybe she was a funny girl!" Bokuto speculated.  "He probably turned her down like all the others, but she was just a little more interesting?  I wouldn't worry about it.  Especially if he said he's not going to go to any more." 

"I guess... How's Max?"

"Why would you ask about Max and not Akaashi?"

"I figure you probably see your _kohai_ more than your boyfriend at this point."  Kenma shrugged.

"Harsh... but true," Bokuto moaned.  "But we have a date coming up!  It'll be our first in... god, what, a month?  Sometimes it feels like it must be a chore for him to see me.  He has to schedule me in around everything else, like an afterthought.  It makes me wonder if he even cares anymore." 

"He probably does, Bokuto," Kenma mumbled.  "He's just excited about being at Waseda.  Especially after taking an unexpected _ronin_ year and butting heads with his parents about it." 

"I mean, I _know_ that..." Bokuto groaned.

"You should probably still talk to him though."  Kenma was pretty sure it was Kuroo talking through him now.

"And say what?  Sorry for being so needy, but I really want you to pay more attention to me?  I sound like a whiny little kid.  Anyway, if he really cared, wouldn't he take the extra time and initiative?  At least... a little?"

"Not if he's caught up in stuff and you don't let him know you need that." 

"Yeah, and have you told Kuroo about how much you _love_ the dates he goes on?" 

Kenma shot Bokuto a sharp glare, crumpling the empty plastic bottle in his hand.

" _Not_ the same thing.  Not all of us can be as open with our parents as you.  He has to go because his mom is insisting on them." 

"Sure, you can't be open with them, but if we're gonna talk about _feelings_ , does Kuroo know how uncomfortable the blind dates make you?  Or all the time he spends with Tsukki?"

"Does Akaashi even know about Max?"  Kenma hissed back, eyes narrowed, stopping abruptly.

"See?  Pot, kettle!" Bokuto poked his finger into Kenma's shoulder before pointing at himself, puffing out his chest defensively and pursing his lips. 

After a tense moment, Kenma finally took a deep breath and sighed. 

"Fine.  We both suck."   

Bokuto sighed with him, throwing his empty bottle into his gym bag and putting his hand on his hips. 

"Yeah, but... I suck a little more.  Hah... it's funny, I think that's the first argument we've had." 

"I guess... are you... keeping track?" Kenma asked with a bemused grin.

"Of the progress of our friendship, you mean?" Bokuto grinned.  "Maybe... it always seemed like you were a little bit... untouchable.  For me.  Like maybe you didn't strictly _like_ me, but you put up with me because of Kuroo and Akaashi.  So... you know... I get a little giddy when I can make you smile and stuff."

Kenma felt heat rising to his face—he must not have cooled down from their practice.  He felt the corner of his mouth twitch upward a little, and bashfully, he pulled his hair out of its ponytail.  He required the extra coverage lest Bokuto catch sight of his blushing ears next. 

"Like that!" Bokuto exclaimed affectionately.

What came next was something probably neither of them expected.  Not even Bokuto could have anticipated how his body would move on its own, caught up in the warm moment shared between two friends, affection filling his heart for the first time in weeks.  It was just a little kiss.  And it wasn't even direct, it had ended up on the corner of Kenma's mouth more than anything, but...

But he kissed him. 

And after several seconds of shock, and after Bokuto saw the shock in Kenma's eyes turn slowly to panic, he brought his hands up and backed away several paces, frantically shouting,

"I'm sorry!  I don't know what came over me—I didn't... It was a friend kiss!  I swear, I would never try to take advantage or anything like—Ken—Kenma?  Kenma, are you ok?" 

He wasn't okay.  He didn't know what it was, but it wasn't _okay_.  It felt like... like there was ice in his veins, his body seized with pain... His limbs wouldn't obey him, they wouldn't move... they _hurt_.  Why did they hurt?  And on top of that, his chest felt constricted, he was taking gasping, labored breaths—it was so hard to breathe, his vision was blurring.  No, he wasn't okay.  He was dying. 

"I..." He rasped. 

"Kenma?!" 

He felt Bokuto's hands grasp his shoulders tightly, shaking him a little.  It made his head spin. 

"St-stop..."

"Oh god, Kenma—Kenma, you need—you need a doctor!  Um!"  Bokuto looked around wildly, surveying their surroundings.  "Hospital!  I don't know where—police!  The police box!" 

Kenma's knees started to give way, and he leaned on Bokuto for support, trying to focus on his breathing.  He clenched his eyes shut, trying to block out the pain and focus on his breathing—he could handle pain, but he needed air.  Above all else, he needed to breathe to survive. 

"Hold on, Kenma!" 

He felt Bokuto lift him into his arms, and he thought he might throw up from the sudden motion—Bokuto did _not_ know how to be gentle with a patient. 

"Ugh..."  The last thing Kenma wanted to do was hurl in public. 

"Kenma, you can't die… Kuroo will KILL ME!" 

Was he dying?  It sure felt like it.  If he wasn't dying, why else would he feel like this?  Oh god, he was going to die!  He hadn't even turned twenty and he was going to die—what had he even done with his life?  What about Kuroo?  He wanted to see Kuroo—if he couldn't spend his last moments with Kuroo even—breathing!  He needed to focus on his breathing.  If he didn't, he'd suffocate.  His own body was trying to suffocate him. 

"Sir!  Please—please help!  My friend!  I don't know what's wrong—he needs to go to a hospital!"  Bokuto was on the verge of tears, frantically grasping the police officer's sleeve. 

“Settle—calm down!  What’s the matter?”

“He can’t breathe, he needs a doctor!” 

“All right, all right, just hang tight.”

As the police officer radioed in the request for an emergency vehicle, Bokuto's thoughts were running a mile a minute. 

"Kenma... Kenma, are you okay?  You're gonna be okay.  We're gonna get you to a hospital—it's gonna be fine.  Just hang in there." 

As unpleasant as a hospital sounded, Kenma _really_ needed Bokuto to put him down.  Bokuto's agitation was making everything much worse, like he could hear Bokuto's pounding heart in his ears—he was so loud and jumpy—he was going to throw up if Bokuto didn't put him down.  But he couldn't talk, he had to focus on his breathing. 

"B-Bo..." 

An ambulance turned the corner within a few minutes, and paramedics pulled Kenma out of Bokuto's arms to lay him down onto a stretcher.  They noted he was conscious and tried to ask him questions; they hovered over him and asked him to open his eyes, to tell them his name, what was wrong, but he couldn't.  He couldn't speak, he needed to breathe. 

Bokuto stepped forward, waving his arms frantically.

"His name is Kozume Kenma!  He's... uh... nineteen?  Twenty?  No, nineteen.  Uh... we were just walking, and then... he couldn't breathe, I don't know—I think he's in pain?  Please, you have to help him!" 

"Calm down, we're going to need you to calm down." One of the paramedics told Bokuto as the second EMT put an oxygen mask over Kenma's face.  "Can you come with us to the hospital?  We're going to need more information as we check him in." 

"Yes—yes!  Of course!" 

Kenma felt his consciousness fading, and he forced his eyes open even though it made him dizzy.  He didn't want to pass out, he wasn't sure if he would wake up if he did.  Feebly, he reached a hand toward Bokuto, who rushed forward to grasp his hand tightly in his own.  The paramedics pushed Kenma's stretcher into the van, and Bokuto climbed in after him, holding Kenma's hand tight the entire ride. 

After they arrived at the hospital and the paramedics rushed Kenma through into the ER, a hospital staff member came to ask Bokuto questions about what happened, and he answered to the best of his ability, trying to stay calm and not cry.  They wouldn't let him through into the ER with Kenma, and he understood why, but it still agitated him.  Instead he called Kuroo, praying his friend was out of class and would pick up the phone. 

"Yeah, Bokuto?"

"Kuroo!!!  Oh thank—You have to come quick!  To the hospital!  Kenma's dying—I don't know—I might have killed him, I'm so sorry, I'm so sooo sorry, it's all my fault!"

"Whoah whoah, slow down!  Hospital?!  Kenma?!  Which one, where are you?"

"Um... Uh..." Bokuto looked around wildly, before running outside the lobby doors to read the sign-post by the road.  "Senpo.  Senpo Tokyotakanawa Hospital.  Kuroo, you have to come quick!" 

"I'll be there as soon as I can!  Just—stay with him!"

“They won’t let me—“ Bokuto started but Kuroo had already hung up on him.  “Crap, what do I do now…” he wrung his hands and bit his lip, looking everywhere around him for answers, guidance, _anything_.  In the end, he pulled out his phone and began dialing Akaashi.

* * *

 

After calling Kenma’s mother, Kuroo had rushed to the hospital as fast as he could, dashing at top speed through the bustling train stations and frantically re-checking his phone to make sure he had the right hospital.  He found an extremely distressed Bokuto waiting for him in the lobby, and Kuroo ran immediately over to the check-in desk, trying to catch his breath as he gasped out,

“I’m… here to see… hah… um… Kozume Kenma.  Recently admitted?”

The woman at the desk began calmly typing the name into the computer, and Bokuto rushed over to them, his own breathing barely less agitated than Kuroo’s. 

“Are you immediate family?”

“Wh—n-no, I’m…”

“Then I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until we’ve declared him fit to have visitors.”

“But I’m—“ Kuroo choked, biting his lip.  _I’m his boyfriend!_ He wanted to scream, but now was not the time or place.  _I know him better than anyone!  I live with him!  I’m as much family as his own parents!_   Instead, he swallowed hard, his eyes pleading with the receptionist. 

She seemed to take some pity on him, her expression softening, but still she shook her head.

“I’m afraid rules are rules.  If you wait just over there in the lobby, I’ll be sure to let you know as soon as you’re allowed to see him.  Can I take your name?”

“Kuroo.  Kuroo Tetsurou.” He mumbled. 

“And your relation to the patient?”

“…family friend.  And emergency contact.”  He just about gagged on the words, hating the lie they painted.  _I’m his lover, I’m his family._ He thought repeatedly in his head.  _I know his favorite color, the password to his phone, I know how firm he likes his noodles, and I know how much he hates doing the laundry most of all.  Let me see him._

“Thank you.  I’ll let you know as soon as you can see your friend.” 

“He _is_ all right, though… isn’t he?”  Kuroo made one last plea.

“He’s marked as being in stable condition,” she offered quietly.  “Now if you could please wait in the lobby until I call you over…”

Stepping miserably away from the counter, Kuroo flung himself at Bokuto, holding his dear friend tight for several moments before pulling away and sniffling. 

“Sorry—sorry.  Thank heaven you were there, Bokuto—you got Kenma help—I don’t know what I would do if—if he had been alone when…  What happened?” 

“I don’t know, he just… All of a sudden he couldn’t breathe right, and… and apparently he was in pain?" Bokuto stammered, wringing his hands.  "He just... froze... and then it was like... I thought he was having a heart attack!" 

"But... he's healthy!  He's young and healthy—he used to be an _athlete_... he doesn't have asthma or anything like that, so—" Kuroo was baffled as to what could've caused the sudden decline in Kenma's health, and his mind began frantically scrambling to see if he could remember any mention of an allergy or prior injury, maybe from when they were children... 

"Tetsu?!" 

A voice jolted them both, and they turned to see Kenma's mother dashing towards them, her hair a mess, her face haggard. 

"Mrs. Kozume..." Kuroo helped brace her as she leaned on him to catch her breath.

"I came as fast as I—is he all right?!" She was on the verge of tears.

"He's stable."  Kuroo wasn't sure where his voice had found its strength, but he was glad it did in the face of Kenma's mother.  "You're family, they'll let you in to see him." 

"Oh, Tetsu..." She gasped, trying to take deep, slow breaths and wiping at her eyes.  "What happened?"

"They'll be able to tell you better than me.  I only just got here myself."  He gripped her hands tight in his own when she reached for them.

"They wouldn't let you in to see him?"

"I'm not family." He explained.

She gave a wry smile and gripped his hands tighter with her own.  "Not by blood, maybe.  But you _are_ family.  I'm gonna ask to see him."

"I'll be waiting right here."  Kuroo reassured her, then watched as she checked herself in as a visitor and was escorted to Kenma's floor.  He overheard something about a psych evaluation before Bokuto gripped his arm so fiercely, he hissed from the pain.

"Bokuto—what are you—"

"It's my fault!"  Bokuto bit his lip.  The guilt was going to kill him whether or not Kuroo did—and once he spoke to Kenma he'd find out anyway.  "I caused this, I..."

"What are you talking about?"

"Kuroo... You have to believe me.  I didn't mean anything by it—it just _happened_.  I don't know what came over me, but... I... We were just talking and... I kissed Kenma." 

"What?!"

"It was a friend kiss!  I swear!  A peck—barely anything, right here—" he pointed to the corner of his mouth frantically, his arms flailing wildly.  "I'd probably kiss _you_ like that if we were drunk or excited—but... it was after that... _Right_ after I... did that... Kenma just—he..."

"You did what?!"  Kuroo hissed, gripping the collar of Bokuto's shirt suddenly.  "You—"

"Excuse me!  Gentlemen!  I'm going to have to ask you to either quietly sit down or leave—this is a hospital—at the very least, please wait outside!"  A nurse yelled at them firmly, ready to call for security if they gave her any additional grief.

After several moments, Kuroo gave her a swift apologetic bow of his head before shoving past Bokuto roughly, stomping outside and praying for restraint.

"Kuroo!" 

The outside air was supposed to calm him—maybe help sort his head, but instead the humid air rushed into Kuroo's lungs and made him gag—he might have thrown up from the rage if Akaashi hadn't run up to him in that moment, turning the corner of the block and dashing frantically toward him.

"Kuroo—I came as soon as I heard—Bokuto called me about Kenma... is he all right?  Are you?" 

"Ak—Akaashi..." Bokuto choked as he came out of the automatic doors.  "You came..."

"You told me Kenma collapsed!  Of course I was going to come in an emergency like this!"  Akaashi turned his attention away from Kuroo, moving closer to Bokuto and reaching out with his hand.  He could see how upset Bokuto was. 

"Explain yourself!!!" Kuroo's voice roared in the air between them, and he turned on Bokuto with a fury, startling them both.

"K-Kuroo, what's... what does Bokuto have to—" Akaashi started but Bokuto motioned for him to be quiet and stand aside. 

"What fucking bullshit was that?!  You _kissed_ him!!?" Kuroo's fists were clenched by his side, and it was taking every ounce of self-control to not just slug Bokuto several times.  "How does _that_ result in this?!" 

"I don't know..." Bokuto mumbled. 

"Kissed... you _kissed_ Kenma?"  Akaashi whispered incredulously between them.  "Bokuto, what in the world made you—"

"I fucked up, okay?!" Bokuto shouted, his hands grabbing fistfuls of his hair.  "I haven't done anything right these past few weeks, and... all I can say is 'I'm sorry!'  I don't expect you to forgive me right away... either of you... _Any_ of you...  Shit, Kenma I'm so sorry..."

"So you practically gave him a heart attack by kissing him?!"  Kuroo's voice was growing almost shrill with disbelief.  "That doesn't make any sense—how does... WHY were you kissing him?!  Tell me what actually happened with him—did you _hurt_ him?!  What are you not telling me, Bokuto?!" 

"I'm telling you everything that happened!" Bokuto matched Kuroo's volume with his frantic replies.  "He just... went into shock!  I don't know!!  That's all that happened—I didn't do anything other than that!  I mean... I guess before that he was helping me practice a bit of volleyball, but—he was fine then!  He was fine at that time!" 

"Did Kenma maybe have a panic attack?" Akaashi questioned, somehow managing to put aside his anger at Bokuto for the time being out of concern for Kenma's health. 

"A wh—what?" Bokuto stammered. 

"A panic attack," Akaashi repeated himself.  "I—when I worked at my father's hospital... I'd seen a few cases.  You said it looked like he was having a heart attack?"

"He couldn't breathe right," Bokuto repeated himself.  "He was in pain, he couldn't move... he was gasping and trying his best to just breathe!  I mean… I've never seen a heart attack but... that's what it looked like to me when it was happening." 

"A panic attack?" Kuroo repeated.  "But... Kenma's always been a little bit shy, sure, but—a panic attack?  He's never had anything like that!" 

"It's... the doctors would know—I'm... I'm just guessing." Akaashi muttered, keeping his eyes fixed on Kuroo.  He was finding it difficult to look at Bokuto.  "But Kenma _has_ been stressed lately, hasn't he?"

"From what?" Kuroo was growing exasperated now. 

"Those dates you go on..." Bokuto mumbled, not wanting to sound accusatory, but the answer jumped out of his mouth before he could stop himself.  "All the time you spend with Tsukki now." 

"But we... we talked about those!  He was the one who told me to just go anyway." 

"He might have done and said everything rationally, but that doesn't mean it doesn't still upset him." Akaashi explained as gently as he could. 

"If he was that upset about all of that... why didn't he tell me?" Kuroo moaned. 

"So... wait—he got a panic attack because I kissed him?" Bokuto repeated.  "I mean... I didn't think he was that..."

"I'll ask later _why_ you kissed him, but it's not as simple as either of you are making it out to be." Akaashi said, directing a hostile glare at his boyfriend.  "I think this must have been building for some time, and Bokuto's... what Bokuto did just... set him off.  The straw that broke the camel's back, as it were.  It wasn't just the k—what Bokuto _did_ that made him ill.  I think there's a little more going on.  He even texted me how nervous he’d been feeling, and that was weeks ago.  In any case, the both of you really need to calm down."

"What are panic attacks like?" Kuroo asked, bringing a hand to his forehead and closing his eyes.  He'd been much too high strung in the past half hour, it was starting to give him a headache.  He took several deep breaths before asking again, "For the person having it... what is it like?  Is Kenma going to be okay?" 

"He should be fine," Akaashi reassured him.  "Everyone experiences them a little differently, but... they pass.  Afterward, when they run the tests, it's like there was nothing wrong to begin with." 

"Okay." Kuroo nodded, trying to take deep, slow breaths to calm him.  "Okay." 

"He's really going to be okay?" Bokuto pressed, biting his lip when Akaashi pulled away from his touch. 

"No thanks to you." Akaashi scolded.

"I—" Bokuto started, but Kuroo cut him off.

"Bokuto brought him here to the hospital—he got him immediate medical attention, and he called me... and you..." Kuroo sighed, biting his lip and facing his long-time friend.  "Whatever you did or didn't do... Whether or not you caused this incident... Looks like I have some responsibility too for what happened."

"Kuroo..." Bokuto sniffed. 

"Don't get me wrong, we're going to have a talk later."  Kuroo said firmly, and raised his hand toward Bokuto, gripping his shoulder firmly.  "But I have to thank you for bringing Kenma to the hospital." 

Without any further comment, he moved past them back into the building, shoulders slumped and hands buried in his pockets, leaving Bokuto and Akaashi alone.  Awkwardly alone.

"You might have to talk to Kuroo about it later, but you're going to talk to me _now_ ," Akaashi broke the silence, arms crossed. 

"Akaashi..."

Akaashi led the two of them away from the entrance of the hospital around to the side of the building, to an area mostly out of sight from the people who would enter and leave the front doors.

"I leave you alone for barely a month because I'm busy with school, and this is how you betray my trust?  By doing that to Kenma—our _friend_!"

"Anything I say is going to sound like an excuse," Bokuto mumbled miserably.  "Because it is.  I didn't have a _reason_ for kissing Kenma... I don't have a reason for not telling you I got suspended—"

" _Suspended_?!" Akaashi repeated incredulously.  "From school?"

"From the team.  I got in a... not exactly a fight, I just kind of lost my cool and—"

"You got suspended, you kissed Kenma, what else have you been up to these past few weeks and not telling me?  Was this—was the suspension what you were texting about?"  Akaashi's eyes widened with realization.

"Yes."

"You should have told me then!  You should have called me—why didn't you?!"

Akaashi's voice was rising—Bokuto couldn't remember the last time he'd ever heard Akaashi yell or get upset about anything.  It was so rare that Akaashi could lose his cool, and when he did, it was usually because of Bokuto.  Because he had done something wrong or said something wrong or just been his idiotic self. 

"I don't bring out the best in you, do I?" Bokuto muttered pathetically.  "I'm always upsetting you." 

"Don't change the subject—when did you get suspended?"

"The day I texted you.  I was going to tell you about it later, but... there's nothing I can say to explain myself.  My moods are awful... I've just been so _lonely_!" Bokuto sniffled, tears springing to his eyes.  He was such a crybaby, always so quick to tears.  "You've been so busy, and then Kuroo quit the team so I didn't even have him around anymore... and then he got busy too, and I didn't wanna bother you."

"Bother me?" Akaashi repeated.  "You think talking to me about your problems is _bothering_ me?  Bokuto, we're in a relationship, you're supposed to talk to me about your problems—I would have been happy to listen and make more time for you if I had known you really needed it!" 

"But you're having so much fun at Waseda, and I can tell how much you're really enjoying yourself, and I thought I could handle it—I need to be able to handle it on my own sometimes too, right?"

"But you've always been awful about being alone—and in the end you didn't keep it all to yourself, did you?  You went to Kenma and Kuroo for help, but not me." 

"I'm sorry..." Bokuto muttered, not bothering to wipe the tears that fell freely down his cheeks.

"Why did you kiss Kenma?" Akaashi whispered. 

Whatever the reason, he could forgive Bokuto keeping his suspension a secret.  He could overlook the poor attempts to appear cool and put-together.  And depending on what he heard next, he might even be willing to forgive the unfaithfulness—he certainly couldn't hold Kenma's panic attack against him, since nobody could predict a situation like this ever happening.  But he needed to know.  _Tell me you didn’t fall in love with him._

"Why?" He repeated.

"I don't know," Bokuto sniffed. 

"Not good enough," Akaashi's voice was shaking now.  "That's not a good enough answer for me." 

"I'm sorry."  Bokuto sobbed.  He wished he were a smarter man.  Then he'd be able to articulate his feelings better and explain everything clearly—give Akaashi the answers he deserved.  "I just missed you so much."

"If you missed _me,_ why would you kiss Kenma?  Why would you do that to us?"  Akaashi's eyes were filling with tears now; he was so frustrated by it all—with Bokuto, with himself... "Do you not love me anymore?" 

"Akaashi!  That's not what's—I love you so much, how could you even think—"

"What else am I supposed to think?  You're keeping secrets from me and seeking out affection from others like I'm not enough—"

"It's my fault!  It's all on me—there's no one else to blame, not Kenma, especially not you!  I'm the idiot that never thinks before acting!  I've been so lonely, and Kenma's been such a good friend to me lately—it was a _friend_ kiss!  I was just... being affectionate... like friends do... I know that's not a reason, it's sure as hell not a _good_ reason, but..." Bokuto's arms dropped to his sides.  "That's all I got.  I've been really pathetic, and I fucked up my team, my chances to go pro, our relationship, even Kenma's health—that... there's no one to blame but me." 

Akaashi sniffled as Bokuto wailed, and let a few moments pass before quietly asking,

"...a friend kiss?"

"Yeah!  It was barely anything—it's like what siblings do!" 

"Show me."

Bokuto bit his lip, standing nervously in front of Akaashi, then quickly leaned in, planting a quick peck on the corner of his lips, pulling away just as fast, and awaiting his verdict.  He'd done it more or less the same way as he had kissed Kenma, just with more hesitation.  He wished he could read Akaashi's expression—he always had trouble figuring out what his boyfriend could be thinking. 

"...I can't say I've forgiven you for the kiss." Akaashi mumbled, eyes furrowed.  "I'd like to talk to Kenma about it too once he's well."

Bokuto nodded his head disparagingly, chewing on his lips and shuffling his feet like a child being scolded by their parent. 

"You really have put a strain on the trust between us..." Akaashi continued, wiping away a stray tear that fell without his permission.  "But you haven't ruined your future in volleyball.  You have to go talk to your coach about being reinstated, get on your knees if you have to, show up to team practices anyway—even just to observe—you've always been the type to go charging in regardless of the consequences, do that now."

"Akaashi..." Bokuto sniffed, scarcely believing that he'd be willing to give him advice about his suspension of all things, at all times.

"You used to say it all the time, didn't you?  That your era was coming?  Don't you still believe that?  I do.  You have to talk to your coach."  

"Aren't you... You're not breaking up with me?

"It's not so easy to give up on you, you know..." Akaashi admitted, the smallest smile turning the corners of his lips despite himself.  "Everything we've been through together—you've helped me through some very bizarre times... And I _have_ been neglecting you."

"You've been busy!  And school is so important to you, now that you finally get to go to the school you want and—"

"I don't think that's ever stopped you from prioritizing me.  I haven't been thinking about you or your feelings... on my list of day-to-day priorities, I never made time for you without you having to ask for it." 

"Akaashi..."

"You still should have told me about how you felt." He reiterated firmly, wiping away another stray tear.  "But... I'm not free of blame here." 

Bokuto had always been the type to want everything from life—it had been Akaashi’s mistake to think he would be fine with receiving less and less over time from Akaashi’s end.  And if even Kuroo could admit to some responsibility after what Bokuto did to Kenma, Akaashi felt it would have been petty if he couldn't.  As annoying as it was to admit _any_ guilt when he'd been wronged, he knew he loved Bokuto, and despite his frustrations, he didn't want to end what they had.  He couldn't just walk away.

“We're… we’re gonna be ok, right?”

“That depends… Is there anything else you'd like to tell me about?” Akaashi sniffed with a small smile.

“Actually there's this _kohai_ , his name is Max—“

“I was kidding.”  Akaashi's face fell.  _Another one?!_

“I'm not?”

Akaashi gaped as Bokuto began spilling his guts about his charming new _kohai_ who knew just how to flatter him to get his spirits up, who reminded Bokuto of Akaashi in so many ways… Akaashi resolved he would _have_ to make time to see Bokuto weekly—things clearly spiraled out of control if he didn't.  Even if Bokuto was apologizing continuously as he talked… even if he kept reassuring him that still the one he wanted most in his heart was Akaashi...  In any case, Bokuto wasn't getting off the hook that easily. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have nothing I can say to defend myself for this. 
> 
> For absolutely gorgeous art of Akaashi and Bokuto during their argument, [look here](https://twitter.com/mookie000/status/726644679903731712)!!! Akaashi is so beautiful, even while crying~
> 
> And for the accidental kiss, [look here](https://twitter.com/mookie000/status/728705351529472002)!!!
> 
> I'll have more detailed author's notes in the next chapter after some of this tension dies down. Ciao~


	5. Smile Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hope the chapter title is enough to give you an idea of what's ahead.

Kuroo’s insides were a storm, churning and rumbling as he waited and _waited_ for Kenma and his mother to appear out of the elevator.  The fluorescent lighting was miserable, Kuroo was sure it was making his headache worse—especially because there was one bulb in particular by the southwest corner of the room that was flickering ever so slightly.   And not even with any regularity.  He wanted to throw his shoe at it. 

“Ugh…”

“Kuroo?” 

He turned and expected to see maybe Akaashi, maybe about to apologize on Bokuto’s behalf or something along those lines, but instead he came face to face with a pair of bespectacled golden eyes.  Tsukki was holding out an iced coffee for him, a singular eyebrow quirked upward, characteristic for when he could actually be bothered to care about something.

“What are you doing here?” Kuroo asked slowly, taking the drink gratefully.

“Bokuto called me.”

“You too?”

“Well he said Kenma was dying.  I assume he meant for me to come pay my respects.” The blond drawled, pulling out a box of strawberry Meiji chocolates from his shopping bag and opening it as he took his seat beside Kuroo in the lobby.

“Took your sweet time, didn't you?”

“I didn't see the point in rushing.  With Kenma already at the hospital there wasn't going to be much I could help with—they won't even let _you_ in to see him.  I also thought it might take a while, so I bought sustenance first.”

“Are you being a thoughtful _kohai_ for once?” Kuroo teased lightly, taking a sip of his coffee.  The caffeine on an empty stomach was going to make him pay later, but the pick-me-up it would give him for the time being couldn't be more appreciated. 

“Is Kenma going to be ok?”

“Probably… I think.  I won't know for sure until—"

"Of course."

"His mom is with him now, so he's not alone in there, whatever it is.  Akaashi said possible panic attack after listening to Bokuto's version of events." 

“Did they already leave?" Tsukishima asked, surprised.  He expected them to stay until Kenma was released, as support for Kuroo if nothing else.

"I don't know." Kuroo said brusquely, taking several long sips of iced coffee through his straw. 

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow at that—there was definitely a story there—but he wasn't all that curious to know.  He had the feeling Kuroo wouldn't tell him even if he asked right now. 

"A panic attack..." he repeated instead, sticking a chocolate into his mouth.  "I always thought he was more like me… not so much shy but purposefully withdrawn.  Not the nervous type."

"He's not like you," Kuroo muttered.  "He doesn't hate people as a rule, he's just a little wary of them."

"Is that so," Tsukishima shrugged.  "I suppose I wouldn't know him well enough to say.  Yamaguchi was the nervous type, but I don't know if I ever remember him having something like a panic attack... I can see it happening to Yachi." 

"Your freckled pinch server was the nervous type?  Didn't seem like it at Spring High... how many points did he take with his serves?"  Kuroo had fond memories of his Spring High match against Karasuno, even if it had been the match to knock Nekoma out of the tournament. 

“There are different kinds of nervous.”  There were some kinds people could work through.  Yamaguchi was a worrier, so his first instinct was apprehension.  But he was also very warm and optimistic, and that blossomed into a wonderful sense of confidence by the time they had graduated. 

Tsukishima smiled fondly—not something anyone saw everyday—but Kuroo had seen it often enough... always when Yamaguchi was the subject of conversation.  No matter how much the blond claimed he had nothing interesting left for him in Miyagi, Kuroo knew that was just Tsukishima-speak for: _I'm running away, don't ask questions._ It would have been cute if it weren't just the slightest bit pathetic.  Mostly, Kuroo felt bad for Yamaguchi.  Someday, they'd work things out, he hoped.  It would be a shame to lose such a close friend.  A shame for Tsukishima to lose anyone given his less-than-approachable personality.

"Tsukki, thanks for bringing this," Kuroo shook the coffee cup in his hand.  "And thanks for coming, however slowly." 

Tsukishima shrugged, popping another chocolate into his mouth. 

"But, out of concern for Kenma... I'm going to ask you to leave before he comes out of there." 

"He doesn't like me much, does he?" Tsukishima remarked casually.  "I suppose he considers me competition or something..."

"That's not—"

"I understand, I do."  Tsukishima shrugged again, then rose from his seat, fishing into his bag and pulling out a pastry box from a bakery they had visited together once.  "But you can apologize to him on my behalf and assure him that he and I have vastly different tastes, and that I have absolutely _zero_ interest in you that way.  Never have.  Never will." 

Tsukishima passed Kuroo the box with a gloating smirk, and Kuroo returned the sass.

"I suppose I'm not your type," he teased.  "No freckles." 

Tsukishima narrowed his eyes dangerously, but chose to brush the comment aside.

"That's for Kenma.  As a peace offering, get-well present, whatever... Tell him I wish him the best, and the next time I see him, I'll apologize in person." 

Kuroo looked down wryly at the box in his hands, still a little warm, and gave Tsukishima a quiet nod.

"It's apple pie.  As I recall, it's all he eats." 

"Bye, Tsukki."  Kuroo smiled as Tsukishima gave another small smirk before turning on his heels and leaving. 

It would be another hour before Kuroo saw Kenma and his mother exit the elevator on the ground floor.  They both looked understandably exhausted, and Kuroo jumped to his feet immediately to rush over to them, feeling hot tears spring to his eyes to see Kenma on his feet and looking mostly all right.  If his mother weren't standing right there, he might have kissed him in relief. 

"Thank goodness," Kuroo sighed, running a hand through his hair so that he could keep himself from embracing Kenma tight.  "Are you all right?" 

"No," Kenma muttered, but his mother gave a nervous smile instead.

"He's going to be fine.  We just have to… work on some things." 

"My head's messed up," Kenma said quietly, gripping the pill bottle tightly in his hand. 

"The doctor says he has anxiety." His mother tried again, attempting to soften her son's words.  "But that there _are_ ways to manage it and keep it under control."

Kuroo looked between the two, nodding his head and felt his heart break at the way Kenma was biting his lip, clearly angry at himself for something he couldn't help. 

"Kenma, do you want to come home with me for a while?  I know it's a little bit of a longer commute to school, but I can be at home for you, and I can cook all your favorite things." His mom suggested, the concern plain on her brow.

"I wanna go home," Kenma whispered.  "Home with Kuro." 

"I see." Mrs. Kozume replied softly, unable to keep the disappointment from coloring her expression.  "Well... um.  I'll call you.  Or text, if you prefer."  She turned to Kuroo next, her expression clearly strained.  "Tetsu, please call me if you boys need anything; whatever I can do to help.  I'll... probably come by tomorrow with some food so you don't have to worry about cooking for yourselves—I know you must be so busy with school." 

"Thank you, Mrs. Kozume." Kuroo smiled, laying a reassuring hand on her arm.  "We appreciate it."

"And... why don't you boys go home by taxi?  I'll pay the fare." 

She walked swiftly away from them then, heading outside to hail down a car, and Kuroo turned his attention to Kenma, whose eyes were fixed steadily on the ground, his eyebrows furrowed.  Kuroo reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Kenma's ear, and Kenma reached out silently, taking Kuroo's hand in his and entwining their fingers. 

"I'm tired," Kenma whispered, and Kuroo nodded his head.

"Let's get you home." 

They silently walked out to the cab, Kuroo letting Kenma climb in first and trying not to meet Mrs. Kozume's eyes when she saw their joined hands. 

"You have my number, Tetsu," she repeated, reaching out to grab his wrist.  "Please don't hesitate to call."

"We'll keep in touch.  I'll let you know when we get home." Kuroo assured her, then climbed into the taxi after Kenma, waving out of the window at Mrs. Kozume in Kenma's stead. 

They rode in silence all the way home, Kenma gripping Kuroo's hand tight between them in the backseat, and as soon as they got back to their apartment, Kenma shuffled over to the room and crawled immediately into bed, placing his phone and his medicine on the bedside table.  Kyari mewled and rubbed herself between Kuroo's legs—it was well past her dinner time—but Kuroo ignored her for a little longer, sitting beside Kenma on the bed.

"Are you hungry?  Tsukki brought you an apple pie to the hospital actually." 

"No..." Kenma muttered, pulling the blankets up. 

"Let me at least bring you some water," Kuroo whispered gently. 

He fed Kyari, poured two fresh glasses of water to bring back to the room, then gently lay in the bed beside Kenma, his back resting against the headboard.  Kenma rolled over to wrap an arm around Kuroo's waist, half using him as a pillow.  His shoulders relaxed just a touch more when Kuroo began to run his fingers gently through Kenma's hair, scratching at his scalp lightly just the way he liked it.  It wasn't long before Kenma fell asleep—no doubt he was exhausted, he almost never fell asleep that quickly. 

Kuroo, though similarly exhausted, was in no mood to sleep.  He shifted a little so he could get more comfortable, then texted Kenma's mother that they were home safe and sound and that Kenma had gone to bed.  After that, he spent the next several hours looking up information about anxiety and anxiety disorders on his phone before he too succumbed to sleep.

* * *

 

Kuroo was woken up the next morning to several dinging notifications on his phone—a missed call from his mother, a text from Tsukki, several texts from Bokuto, a text from Kenma's mother...  He groaned at the list and turned over in the bed, realizing Kenma wasn't beside him.  Well, he had gone to sleep several hours before Kuroo had.  He rolled out of bed, tousled his hair, and found Kenma huddled over his phone in the living room, playing a game, a few crumbs from Tsukki's apple pie still left in the pastry box.  Well this felt like a typical Saturday morning. 

"Your phone woke me up." Kenma muttered. 

"Same." Kuroo mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.  He settled down beside Kenma at the low table and yawned.  "How are you feeling?"

Kenma gave a silent shrug, eyes locked onto his phone.

"Do you wanna talk about yesterday?" Kuroo tried again.

"Not really." 

"Can we talk about it at some point?"

"...later."  Kenma sighed. 

"All right." Kuroo relented, picking up his phone again so he could reply to everyone's messages.  "Your mom says she'll drop by later this afternoon, around three or so, to drop off some food.  She says it'll be all your favorites." 

Kenma gave a small nod of his head.

"Tsukki says he hopes you're feeling better." 

"Tell him I liked the pie from that bakery." Kenma mumbled. 

"Will do." 

"Bokuto says... uh... about a dozen things honestly, but the gist of it is that he hopes you're okay and that he's really sorry for… kissing you and causing your panic attack.  Also that you're free to throttle him when you're feeling up to it.  Me too."  And Kuroo thought to himself he might just take him up on that offer.

Kenma tensed a little at that—he had almost forgotten about the kiss.  His face flushed as he remembered it, and his game gave the failure jingle. 

"It didn't mean anything—" he said.

"You're not the one that needs to apologize." Kuroo said firmly, typing and deleting his text repeatedly.  The words weren’t coming right.  "That's for Bokuto to do.  And me." 

"I'm not mad at Bokuto—why do _you_ need to apologize?" 

"For stressing you out.  For not realizing you needed me.  I'm sorry about the dates and Tsukishima... I should have realized how much they bothered you." 

" _I_ didn't know how much they bothered me," Kenma mumbled.  "How were _you_ supposed to know?"

Kyari mewled and pushed her head against Kuroo's elbow, interrupting their conversation. 

"She's been fed, don't believe her lies." Kenma said quietly, pursing his lips. 

"Anyway, I'm not going on any more of the blind dates, and I'll check in with you first about Tsukki—He even wants to talk to you.  To apologize."

"Tsukishima does?" 

"The world might be ending, I know." Kuroo said, deadpan. 

Kenma giggled at that, and Kuroo felt relief flood him—it was so good to see Kenma smile again.  It wasn't over, they would still have a lot to talk about and a lot to deal with, based on what he'd read the night before, but if he could still make Kenma laugh… Kuroo thought they'd be fine. 

“At some point, I'll accept Tsukki’s groveling.” Kenma teased.

“Groveling?” Kuroo raised an eyebrow.  He could not imagine Tsukishima Kei ever groveling.

“You can tell him I'll accept no less.” Kenma smirked, returning to his game.

“Yipes.” Kuroo laughed.  “Ok… I'm gonna leave Bokuto’s reply for later… last up is my dear mother… who probably heard about yesterday from your mom and wants to check in.”

“Mm.”

Kuroo stared at the missed call notification, contemplating whether to call or text, then remembered the last blind date he went on, and decided it was time to call.

“I'm gonna step out to the balcony for a bit and call her.”

Kenma raised a questioning eyebrow but said nothing, and Kuroo stepped out, closing the glass door behind him and silently hoping it was soundproof enough.  He dialed the number, leaned against the balcony railing, and took deep breaths with each ring, hoping to calm the churning in his stomach. 

“You're actually calling me first, so either the world is ending or you want something.”

“Love you too, mom.” Kuroo smirked into the air—birds of a feather they were.

“Is Kenma doing all right?  I've added a few dishes of my own to Mrs. Kozume’s care package for you boys.  She looked a mess when she came by last night.”

“Wow, that's gonna be a lot of leftovers.  Kenma’s… he seems all right.  But I'm gonna be keeping a closer eye on him for a while.  Maybe request some days off work.”

“Good.  You need to take good care of him, at least for Mrs. Kozume’s peace of mind.”

“Mmhmm.” Kuroo let silence linger for a few moments before adding, “You know, don't you?”

“You'll have to be more specific.  Mothers know quite a bit, you know.” She hummed.

“You know about us.  About me and Kenma.”

“Hmm… what gave me away?”

“My last date with that girl, Kishino.”

“Took you long enough.” He heard her sigh on the other end.  “I didn't expect you to actually go on so many of those dates—paying for all those dinners wasn’t cheap!”

“I’m not sure you're allowed to complain about that.  You're the one who picked this roundabout way of antagonizing me to get me to come out to you.”

“Well I wasn’t sure what else would pressure you enough to tell me!  I thought I was being obvious with the girls I chose too, but it turns out you're more dense than I thought you were!”

“You could've picked a more direct method—like talking to me straight.  Those poor girls, they’re the real victims here.” Kuroo scoffed.

“Because you were _sooo_ direct with me, Tecchan?” she teased.  She hadn’t called him that since he was in elementary school.

“It's not the easiest thing in the world to tell your parents something about yourself that the majority of people consider shameful and wrong, you know.  How was I supposed to know how you'd react?  Pretty sure I know dad will disown me.”

“I wanted you to give me more credit than that, Tetsurou.  A mother's love for her child is not something to be underestimated.  I've had my suspicions about you two for _years_.  When you told me Kenma was moving in with you, I thought surely you'd tell me then.  But still you boys kept to yourselves, and then I realized you'd never tell me unless I forced you somehow.”

“So… you've accepted it then?  Me?  Us?” Kuroo asked hesitantly, feeling like a small boy again vying for his parents’ approval.  He supposed children never really stopped wanting to hear their parents speak well of them. 

“Accepting you was easy.  Accepting that I'll never have grandchildren was a little harder.  At least I know you can't knock Kenma up out of wedlock.”

“Mom!” Kuroo screeched, and he knew Kenma and half his neighbors heard that outburst.

“But you know,” she continued, ignoring him.  “I do think it's a little selfish of you two to keep this to yourselves like that.  I think Mrs. Kozume deserves to know at least.  It's not my place to tell her, so I haven't, but I think you need to give us more credit.”

“Mom—“

“Though I suppose it's my fault if you ever thought I would turn you away for something like this.  I did my best in my own way to make you feel loved, and I assumed you knew.  But—“

“It wasn't you, mom.” Kuroo interrupted.  “You're a great mother, I've been lucky to have you raise me.  I was just afraid.  I'm sorry for doubting you.”

He heard her sniff on the other end of the line, though her voice was steady enough when she spoke again.

“Apology accepted.”

“Hey, mom.”

“Yes, Tetsu?”

“I'm dating Kenma.”

After a momentary pause, they both burst out laughing, Kuroo’s laughter ringing through the air outside, and he hoped Kenma could hear it even without understanding the reason behind it.  It was the joy of acceptance, and it made his heart lighter than he could've ever imagined.

* * *

 

When Bokuto next showed up to team practice, dressed in his practice clothes and raring to go, he was met by a confused team and a somewhat bemused coach. 

"Coach!" He shouted, prostrating himself on the ground on his hands and knees. 

It was so dramatic and old-fashioned, the others couldn't help but start whispering amongst themselves. 

"I apologize again for the other day—I was out of line; there is nothing I can say to excuse my actions." 

The coach said nothing, merely continued to listen.  Maeda shifted nervously on the balls of his feet from where he was watching.

"I understand if you won't lift my suspension just yet, but please let me at least observe the team practices!  I plan on coming back, I plan on being better than ever, but I don't want to be kept separate from this team while they grow and learn new strategies.  I want to be in sync and connect with everyone, even if I can't play with them just yet!  Please!"

"Off the floor, Bokuto."

"Coach?"

"I'm not letting you join in just yet—three days suspension hardly feels like a penalty... but you came back here on your own, and that was an admirable apology.  Of course I'll let you observe."

"Thank you, Coach!!!"  Bokuto leapt off the floor with a grin that split his face and hollered with glee.  "Thank you so much, I swear I won't let this go to waste!" 

Before anything else could be said, he ran over to their main setter, startling Maeda, who was ready to turn heel and make a run for it if necessary. 

"Maeda!" 

"Wh-what?!  What?  What do you want?" The setter cringed, nervously stepping back.

"I'm really sorry!  You were right, I sucked.  I need to be better.  I swear, I'll never make you regret tossing to me again!" 

"Uh... Well..." Maeda stammered.  "Yeah...  Glad to have you back."

Haruyama nudged him with his elbow.

“…and I’m sorry too.  For being so hard on you.”    

"All right, let's get back to work!"

The coach called out, and the players resumed their earlier serve-receive practices, rotating between serve-receives and laps around the gym.  Normally, Bokuto would be one of the players serving at the line of receivers, but currently it was Haruyama and Max.  It didn’t escape Bokuto’s notice how consistently his first-year _kohai_ served to the rest of the team.  Maybe soon enough, he’d get to see the boy’s moxie as a middle blocker.  Bokuto continued to watch as he ran laps around the gym, shooting Max an exuberant thumbs up when next he caught his eye. 

“It’s good to have you back,” Max said softly to him later in the locker room.  “It seemed like… like the team was a bit depressed without you.” 

“What?” Bokuto smirked, pulling off his sweat-stained shirt with a flourish.  “Did you all miss me?!”  He shouted into the room of sweaty, half naked athletes. 

Half of them groaned, the other half threw their socks, shoes, knee-pads, whatever they had in hand.  But there was laughter too, and good-natured jeering. 

“Not even a little!”

“Ahh… the quiet was nice while it lasted…”

“Guess serve practice isn’t gonna be easy anymore!”

“Awwww…” Bokuto groaned.  “Where’s the love???”  

But he was smiling, and so were the rest of them, and laughter rang out in the crowded locker room.  Eventually, the teasing subsided and several of his teammates came by to clap him on the shoulder, welcoming him back to the team, calling him the Ace again, and retrieving their earlier-thrown possessions. 

“You seem like you’re doing better,” Max noted.  “Did you get things worked out with your partner?”  He asked in a low voice, careful to avoid being overheard by the others, though most had gone already. 

“Yeah!  Well… we’ve started taking steps in the right direction.  After I… majorly fucked up, to be honest, but that’s another story.  Anyway, we’re working on it.  I had the guts to come back here and beg because he told me it’s what I needed to do.  He’s amazing like that—always gets me to do the right thing.” 

“That’s good!” Max smiled, offering his fist for a bump.  “Glad to have you back, Ace.” 

“Glad to be back!” 

_You used to say it all the time, didn't you?  That your era was coming?  Don't you still believe that?  I do._

Akaashi’s words rang in his head as Bokuto zipped up his bag and flung it over his shoulder, glad to feel the sting in his muscles and the burn in his lungs, the tingling on his palms from repeatedly spiking a volleyball… Yes, he believed it again.  A week ago, he had forgotten what had always been his mantra.  But now it was back; _he_ was back, and he swore he’d never let it slip through his fingers again.  Not volleyball, not Akaashi, nothing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha... I know I teased everyone a couple of chapters ago that maybe Bokuto was about to go out and do something really stupid with Max, but the truth was he just needed to tell at least one other person on the team about his relationship with Akaashi. Bokuto has the sort of personality, I think, where it helps him a lot just to have at least one other person know most everything there is to know about him. He doesn't like having to be private or secretive about who he is, and with Max's half-Australian background, there was the higher chance that he'd be accepting of Bokuto. 
> 
> So obviously I have attempted to characterize Kenma with a developing anxiety disorder throughout this story, and I have borrowed heavily from the life experiences of my closest friends and family. The majority of people I know who ended up with a diagnosed anxiety disorder of any sort were nervous, shy, quiet types in earlier life, but as our brains finish developing in our early twenties, that really settles into the condition that they now have. That's the sort of scenario I imagined for Kenma. 
> 
> One thing I really want people to understand however, is that, obviously general awareness and education of mental illness is lacking in most parts of the world, but that it is particularly lacking in east Asian countries. The overarching culture is one that denies the possibility of mental illnesses existing, and while there are many factors that contribute to the high suicide rates of Japan and Korea (and others though these are the 2 countries I know the most about personally), lack of education is a huge factor. The only reason Akaashi had any idea about what might have happened to Kenma is because of his year spent in a hospital. Otherwise, none of them would have had any clue; hence why Bokuto freaked out, why Kuroo is at a complete loss, why they don't understand what's going on for Kenma to have 'freaked out' so badly. He thinks he's 'broken' now for needing medicine, for needing therapy... this is common for anyone struggling with a mental illness, but it can be especially taxing in a country like Japan where the treatment and existence of such conditions is done with little grace and understanding. When I was a teacher, one of my students was autistic and the staff spoke to me about him beforehand, and told me that 'his mind is broken.' That's the type of language that they use to describe it. The clinical term for autism in Japan is 自閉症 (jiheishou), the spelling of which uses characters that translate to 'shutting oneself in.' 
> 
> But this is fiction, of course, and in the end I want only the best for these characters, so I've given Kenma a hospital where a competent doctor can diagnose his anxiety, recommend therapy and prescribe necessary medication. I think his mom is so used to making accommodations for her son that it isn't a much further stretch for her to accept that he has something like anxiety, though of course, she doesn't yet know what all that entails (none of them do right now). But everyone is willing to help however they can because they love Kenma. Who doesn't love Kenma? I love Kenma. Please love Kenma. 
> 
> This end note accidentally turned into an essay, but if you have any further questions, of course please feel free to leave a comment and ask! Just a little more now, I promise to leave you on a happy note.
> 
> \--
> 
> Twitter: @Luna_Dreaming  
> Tumblr: @nimbus-cloud


	6. Moving Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery begins a long and difficult journey, but they have each other, and they're going to just fine.
> 
> \--
> 
> There is a smutty Kuroken bit in this chapter, but it doesn't get that explicit.

The upside to his recent hospitalization was that he had had some rather excellent home-cooking over the past week courtesy of his mother and Kuroo’s.  Kuroo had also requested some time off work and was home as often as he could be while still attending school (and Kenma was still going to his classes, of course, but he had fewer to worry about), so it was nice to have him around.  The downside was… Kuroo had been constantly fretting over him, trying to make sure his every need was attended to at all hours of the day and treating him like he were made of glass. 

_One panic attack, and you’d think Kuro was the one with anxiety, not me._

Of course he understood the concern, and Kenma knew it came from a place of love, but the more Kuroo tiptoed around him, the more… _sick_ he felt.  More broken.  He didn’t want to be reminded that there was something wrong with him.  He wanted Kuroo to treat him like his partner again, not like a patient. 

Not that they were currently any different from the norm.  Kenma was idly playing a game while Kuroo read a book, and Kyari was fiddling lazily with a feathered mouse toy by the balcony.  It was the comfortable day-to-day routine that Kenma usually treasured.  But there were slightly more pressing matters now.

“Kuro—“

“Oh by the way—“

They both clamped their lips shut, Kuroo smirking before waving his hands for Kenma to speak first. 

“I forgot what I was going to say.” Kenma lied, pulling at his hair. 

“Well, I just remembered that my mom wanted to come visit for a bit.  Maybe… next weekend?  I told her I’d check our schedules.” 

“Visit?” Kenma raised an eyebrow.  “Do we… need to move furniture around?”

 _To make it look like we’re not sleeping in the same room?  Like we’re not sleeping together?_ The unspoken questions.

“No that… that’s not necessary.” Kuroo said quietly.  “Turns out she knows.”

Kenma dropped his phone and it fell with a resounding thud. 

“What?”

“Don’t panic, she’s okay with it!” Kuroo said immediately, closing his book and scooting closer.  “We talked about it the day after the hospital trip.”

“On the balcony…” Kenma remembered.  “I thought you were yelling at her about the dates.”

“Well I sort of was.  She was testing me.  Pushing me to confess to her instead of going on them.  Honestly, I should have noticed it sooner but I didn’t until the last girl she sent—she was basically you in a skirt.” 

Kenma squinted hard, pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes as if he’d just smelled something foul.  Kuroo laughed.

“Maybe not completely you.  She didn’t make faces at me like _that_.” 

“So your mom… knows about us?” 

“She figured it out.”

“And… she’s okay with it?” 

“Yeah,” Kuroo said softly, like he could hardly believe it himself.  “She knows, and she still loves us.” 

He scooted closer still to Kenma, reaching out tentatively, silently asking to embrace him.  Kenma responded by curling up against him, reaching up and wrapping his slender arms around Kuroo’s neck, pulling him close. 

“I didn’t think I cared whether or not she knew…” Kuroo muttered into Kenma’s shoulder.  “But when she told me, I was… I was so relieved I could cry.” 

Kenma turned his head, craning to kiss Kuroo’s cheek. 

“So you don’t have to go out with random girls anymore?” Kenma reiterated.

“Never.”

“Good.” Kenma replied, pulling his arms from around Kuroo’s neck to place them on his shoulders then firmly pushing him down to lay on the floor.  “I hated them.”  His new therapist told him open communication with his closest friends and family was important.  He figured this was as good a place as any to start. 

“Kenma?”

“You’re mine,” he insisted, leaning down on his elbows, his lips hovering a breath’s away from Kuroo’s.  “I didn’t like sharing you with them, not even once.” 

“You sure you’re up for this?”

“I think that’s obvious.” Kenma pouted.

“Well, the last time someone kissed you—“

“You know that was different.  I have anxiety, not a vow of celibacy; and I’m not gonna have a panic attack from having sex.  Not with you.”

“Guess I don’t have to worry about you imagining I’m Bokuto, then.” Kuroo teased, and Kenma smacked him on the shoulder. 

But the hungry way their lips met became the true testimony: Kenma knew Kuroo had never felt any attraction for any of those girls, and Kuroo knew that Kenma would never desire Bokuto the same way he desired him.  Kuroo felt Kenma’s _want_ in the insistent way he nibbled his lips into their kisses, pecking him again and again.  He opened his mouth for him and their tongues flicked and teased each other—well, Kenma sure as hell wasn’t showing signs of anxiety at this point.  Reassured by the fervor, he moved his hands to Kenma’s hips, pulling him over so Kenma could straddle him on the floor and rolled his hips upward. 

_So much for restraint._

“Mmph!” Kenma moaned into him, grinding his hips down, and the friction made Kuroo gasp, breaking their kiss. 

“Bed…” he rasped, hands pushing gently at Kenma’s sides.

“Don’t wanna.” Kenma muttered.

“You don’t wanna move six feet over to the left?” Kuroo huffed.

Kenma shrugged, sitting up to pull off his shirt and hoodie.  “Makes no difference, does it?” He leaned back down to trail kisses down Kuroo’s neck, licking at the hollow between his collarbones and Kuroo gasped, not entirely out of pleasure.

“K-Kenma… Isn’t this a bit… fast?” He didn’t mind fast, but too fast made Kuroo think Kenma was just expressing his nervousness a different way.  Like maybe he wanted to get it over with before he changed his mind or backed out. 

“You don’t want to.” Kenma pulled back, observing Kuroo’s face, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

“I just… we still haven’t talked about anything, and…” Kuroo shifted his hips slightly, making their erections grind together.  “Ah… I think it’s obvious I want to.  I just don’t know if you—“

“Then I’ll lead.” Kenma stated.  “If you’re not sure, let me lead.” 

“Okay,” Kuroo said quietly, nodding his head.  “Promise you’ll stop if you need to?  At any point?”

Kenma lifted himself from his position straddling Kuroo on the floor to retrieve the lube and a condom from their bedside table drawer— _five_ feet away. 

“So you’d be okay with me stopping halfway in you when you’re seconds from coming?” Kenma teased, nudging Kuroo’s thigh with his toes. 

“Even then,” Kuroo reassured him, moaning low and loud when Kenma’s toes slid up his thigh, crumpling the fabric at the crotch, as he stepped lightly at the very prominent bulge growing in his pants.  “Ahnn…”

“We’ll see,” Kenma smirked, applying just a little more weight above his foot, pressing and rubbing at the hardness beneath his foot until he saw a wetness seep through the fabric near the waist.  “You’re making a mess.” 

Kuroo’s only reply was a groan before he unbuttoned and unzipped the obtrusive garment and shimmied out of it, kicking them somewhere—he didn’t care where.  He was about to remove his boxers too when Kenma’s hands stilled his own, patting them away lightly.  _My turn_ , they said. 

Kenma’s fingers pressed into Kuroo’s hips, too firm to be ticklish, too light to massage.  He traced the outline of Kuroo’s erection beneath the cotton, rubbing his hand up and down the length of it, pressing against his scrotum sometimes and the insides of his thighs the next… When he saw the tip of Kuroo’s cock peek out from the top of the waistband, oozing pre-cum and slicking the skin of his lower belly, Kenma leaned down to suck at it, lapping up the extra moisture and making Kuroo writhe beneath him.  He could feel his own hardness straining against the fabric of his trousers as he heard the moans and was almost relieved to feel the discomfort.  As if his hard-on was reassuring him that yes, he wanted this as much as he had told Kuroo he did.  Licking his lips, he pulled at the boxers, Kuroo assisting in their removal by lifting his hips. 

Before Kuroo could do much in the way of shifting himself back, Kenma was pushing one of his legs up into the air, holding them up behind the knee and pressing a lube-slicked finger against Kuroo’s entrance. 

Kuroo inhaled sharply, surprised by the sudden cool touch. 

“Still too fast?” Kenma questioned, though his finger was rubbing slow circles around the ring. 

“Hngh… K-Kenma…” came the strained reply, but the clearer answer came in the form of Kuroo pulling his other leg upward and outward, spreading his legs open for his partner.

To reward such an honest response, Kenma pressed one finger steadily in, Kuroo’s warmth pulling him in eagerly.  But it had been a while since Kuroo last bottomed, and the tightness Kenma felt around his finger urged him to slow down a touch.  He rubbed at Kuroo’s insides gently, twisting the digit carefully before eventually moving it in and out.  When Kuroo whimpered for more contact, Kenma slowly pushed in a second, his free hand running up and down the skin of Kuroo’s thigh. 

 _This wasn’t so bad,_ Kenma thought as he continued his ministrations.   _It’s just sex.  We’ve had lots of that._ Lots of kisses, more-than-kisses… some of the things they’ve done could definitely be categorized as ‘obscene.’  Kenma still wasn’t sure why he had launched into a full-scale panic attack from just one little kiss… but there were a lot of things about anxiety he couldn’t explain.  It was frustrating. 

He pushed in a third finger a little quickly—distracted—and Kuroo let out a hiss, biting his lower lip.

“Sorry,” Kenma said immediately, both hands stilling. 

“Mph… it’s fine,” Kuroo groaned, wiggling his hips a little.  “I’m ok.  I tend to like it rough, remember?”

“Only when it’s rough on you,” Kenma pouted.  It was next-to-impossible to get Kuroo to be rough with him when _he_ wanted it.  This was one of those times actually, but Kenma had already said he would lead, and he was too stubborn to renege.  “I could just put it in now.”

“You could,” Kuroo repeated, trying his best to seem neutral. 

Kenma knew what it meant though, and he withdrew his fingers so he could unbutton and unzip his pants, shimmying them down his hips a little.  He slid the soft rubber over himself, then coating it with a generous amount of lubricant—he hadn’t quite prepared Kuroo as well as he should have—and pressed the tip slowly inside. 

“Hnngh… K-Kenma…” Kuroo whimpered, a hand clamping over his mouth. 

Kenma slowly pushed forward, watching Kuroo closely as he buried himself little by little inside, mesmerized by the way Kuroo’s lashes fluttered with each gasp, the way his chest heaved beneath the fabric of his shirt—Kenma could just make out the outlines of his nipples, perky with excitement.  Without warning, he thrust himself forward for the last stretch, letting out a guttural moan as their skin slapped together.  A lovely flush was coloring Kuroo’s cheeks now, and he was biting his lip so hard Kenma feared he might break the skin.  Leaning forward, he kissed the corner of Kuroo’s lips, the way Bokuto had done—

The way… Bokuto… had…

_No…_

He felt his chest constrict, a cold chill crawling up his neck.  He was already short of breath but now he was near gasping; he tried to even his breathing, to calm himself.  This wasn’t like the last time… it wasn’t as bad.  Not nearly.  Maybe sex had always been this overwhelming, and he just hadn’t noticed it before.  He wasn’t used to feeling anything so strongly.  That was all it was, wasn’t it?  Kenma felt himself growing soft and limp inside Kuroo, and he bit his lip in frustration.  He tried to focus on Kuroo’s face, but the affection he saw there felt like a deluge, and he thought he might drown in it. 

“Kenma?”

Kuroo wiped away a tear from Kenma’s cheek he hadn’t noticed he’d shed. 

“I’m sorry…” Kenma whispered. 

“We can stop, remember?” Kuroo insisted, reaching up with his arms and wrapping them around Kenma’s neck, pulling him close. 

“It’s just sex, I should be able to—“ Kenma hiccupped.  “I should at least be able to make you feel good.  Can’t I at least do that much anymore?” 

“It’s just sex,” Kuroo repeated back to him, agreeing.  “We can always try again later or another day.” 

“Maybe if we switch…” Kenma muttered, pulling out slowly and moving to straddle Kuroo instead.  “Let’s do it this way and maybe—“

Kuroo’s sat up suddenly, wrapping his arms tight around Kenma’s entire being, holding him tight to his chest.  Kenma could feel the steady beat of Kuroo’s heart through the fabric—it calmed him—and he let out a breath.  Then he took a deep breath and let out another long one.  He counted to ten, then pressed his face into Kuroo’s shoulder, bringing up his arms now to return the embrace.  He felt Kuroo’s strong hands rub slow circles into his back, soothing him.

“Are you sure you want this?” Kenma whispered, clinging tight to Kuroo’s shirt, fingers clawing at the fabric desperately.  “Are you sure you still want me?  With all this—“

“Shh…” Kuroo cooed.  “You’re still you.” 

“I’m messed up now…” Kenma sniffed.

“ _Now_?” Kuroo sniggered.  “You’d eat sweets all the time for every meal if I didn’t stop you, you always take days to actually fold your finished laundry, and I know you feed Kyari extra when she begs for it and I’m not home—don’t—don’t even try to argue, I know you do.” 

Kenma pouted and smacked Kuroo’s arm half-heartedly. 

“Still love you though,” Kuroo added, holding him tighter.  “I do.  I love you.”

“…” Kenma bit down on his quivering lip, burying his face into Kuroo’s shoulder.  “…stupid.” 

“Yeah…” Kuroo agreed with a smile Kenma couldn’t see. 

Later that night, after Kenma’s agitation had settled back from worry into desire… Kuroo slid into Kenma with slick ease, their bodies stumbling about in the darkness—now, on the bed.  Kenma clung to him tight and whispered it back to him, over and over, between his pants and moans and cries for more, he breathlessly repeated his own affections into Kuroo’s ear, the taut skin of his neck, and into the softness of his lips.  And afterward—just to be sure—they tried again. 

* * *

 

“Do you find me attractive?”

Thank goodness he’d only been picking at his food instead of eating it—or worse, drinking something—because Kenma dropped his fork immediately, coughing as his spit caught in his throat. 

“Where is this question coming from?”

Akaashi flushed slightly before stirring his tea, looking down into the swirling, murky liquid before continuing. 

“It’s just… Between you and Max—“

“But nothing happened with Max,” Kenma corrected.  “Right?”

“No, you’re right.  Nothing happened with Max,” Akaashi repeated, more to remind himself.  “But… it certainly makes me feel a bit… insufficient.”  He ended quietly, moving his gaze from his tea to outside the window, where passerby were beginning to scurry as a steady downpour started.  “Hope the others brought umbrellas today…”

The two were waiting for Kuroo and Bokuto inside of a Doutor café, the vague promise of going to see a movie hanging in the air—assuming the older two weren’t too late in joining them near the theater.  Not that Akaashi minded missing the movie, he wanted the opportunity more than anything to speak with Kenma. 

“I mean…” Kenma muttered, setting down his fork and fixing his gaze on Akaashi, appraising him.  “I’ve… never really thought about it before.  But…” He ran his eyes over Akaashi’s bouncy, wavy hair, his piercing eyes that sometimes glimmered with a hint of sage in the light… his long, thin lips and slender jaw line.  “Yes, I think you’re very attractive.” 

‘Attractive’ didn’t mean ‘attracted to,’ Kenma reminded himself, reassuring himself of his own fidelity.

Akaashi felt his face grow hot under Kenma’s approving gaze and immediately retracted the query.

“I’m sorry, that was an awkward question, wasn’t it?” He said nervously.  “Never mind, I’m just… feeling a bit insecure is all.”

“I’ve had worse,” Kenma shrugged.  “But you should know you don’t have anything to worry about.”

Kenma grabbed the top piece of toasted bread from his sandwich, nibbling on the edges—his hot sandwich was definitely room temperature now.  He guessed it was time now to have the conversation neither of them particularly wanted to have.  Without it in the open, it would fester and lurk beneath the surface every time they saw each other, the unanswered questions gnawing away at their friendship until it became little more than banal pleasantries.  And it was hard enough to get Akaashi’s attention these days. 

“Bokuto didn’t kiss me because he was attracted to me… at the time, I think he was talking mostly about missing you.”  Kenma spoke mostly into his chilled leftovers, Akaashi stirring his tea needlessly across the table from him.  “He was telling me how happy he was that we got to be become better friends, and then it just…”

“…happened.”

“He was starved for affection, Akaashi, that was all.”  Kenma hoped he was being reassuring, though he understood well enough how the entire affair could put a strain on any relationship. 

“Of course I don’t blame you for any of this, Kenma—“ Akaashi began, biting his lip and opening his mouth several times in turn before he finally stammered out the next sentence.  “But, it’s been… I’ve been… Intimacy has become difficult.” 

Kenma kept his expression even, trying to remember if he and Akaashi had ever exchanged pillow talk before… his memory came up blank, and perhaps Akaashi realized as much, his eyes darting around the table and refusing to meet Kenma’s gaze.

“Sorry that’s—it’s inappropriate to talk about…  And private.” 

“Have you tried?” And yet, Kenma found himself bizarrely curious. 

“Well we’ve…” Akaashi cleared his throat, pulling at his wavy hair and trying to cover the blush that insisted on coloring his ears.  “Bokuto’s tried… to instigate it.  But I’ve been, well, reticent.”  After several more moments of silence, he continued.  “I can’t help but wonder if it’s me he really wants… if I’m enough to satisfy him.” 

A giggle escaped Kenma’s lips before he could stop it. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he amended, though he was still laughing.  “I’m not trying to make fun of you, it’s just… it’s _cute_.” 

“Cute?!” Akaashi’s spoon clattered out of his tea cup. 

“That you think you’re not enough for him.”  His laughter had mostly subsided now. 

“But he—it was so easy for him to go looking for other companionship!  Aren’t people supposed to have more self-control usually?” 

“Have you ever known Bokuto to have any ounce of self-control?” 

“He’s—“ Akaashi bit his lip.  “…no.  Not really.”  He sighed. 

“Bokuto’s not attracted to me.  And if it was just more sex or whatever that he wanted, I don’t think it would matter much if you were around or not.  He’s just a big idiot with a big heart, and he got a little carried away.”

“I suppose I agree with the ‘big idiot’ part… and the ‘big heart.’” 

“He’s crazy about you.  He didn’t shut up about you.  If he’s not talking about volleyball, he’s talking about you.”  Kenma listed, sounding almost bored, though he was trying to be reassuring.  “And Max?  I don’t know anything about him other than he reminded Bokuto of _you_.” 

“I’m not sure why it sounds so much better coming from you than from him.” Akaashi admitted. 

“Neutral third party?” Kenma shrugged.  “Still, if you feel like you need a little extra something to make sure Bokuto absolutely wants you and only you… maybe see if the two of you have any fantasies in common.  Spice that up a bit.” 

Akaashi turned beet red, and the blush he had tried to keep diminished spread all across his skin like wildfire.  He covered his face with one hand to avoid sputtering. 

“F-fan…  Mmm…” he could barely bring himself to repeat the word.

“For example, Kuro likes to be… tied up.” Kenma supplied, maybe a little too eagerly.

“Kuroo does???” Akaashi covered his mouth immediately after, a few other people in the café glancing at him for his sudden outburst.  He could never have imagined that, and then once his mind started to, he grew even more flabbergasted as he tried to force the images from his brain. 

“He has a bit of a masochistic side.” Kenma supplemented, whispering the last part.  “Likes being dominated.” 

Now he was definitely teasing because it was fun to see how embarrassed Akaashi was getting.  Maybe he’d never thought about his friends’ sex life, but it was hard to believe that it was _that_ tame.  _Bokuto_ was involved, after all, and hadn’t they both agreed the man had hardly an ounce of self-control? 

“I’m surprised you’ve never experimented,” Kenma admitted.  “Since… Bokuto… and all.” 

“He’s not…” Akaashi shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  “He hasn’t mentioned… anything like that… But I suppose, he can be a bit rough?  Except… I don’t have any other experience to compare it to.”  Akaashi shook his head.  “We shouldn’t be talking about this, should we?” 

“Shouldn’t we?  We’re friends, I trust you.”  Mostly.  Even if Kenma trusted him, he wasn’t about to tell Akaashi about the time he and Kuroo used Bokuto’s name as a safe-word.

Vaguely, Kenma wondered how rough Bokuto must get—the man always projected such wild animalism.  Probably much rougher than Kuroo.  Did Akaashi like it rough like that?  Kenma felt a blush color his cheeks as well—one too many BL games combined with his own experiences conjured up an instantaneous mental image to go with his questions, and he pulled at his hair nervously. 

“But… maybe we shouldn’t talk about this sort of thing in public.” 

“Right.” Akaashi agreed, taking a cautious sip of his tea.

Kenma nodded his head, taking another nibble out of his cold toast. 

Akaashi tapped his fingers on the table in an erratic rhythm, matching the pitter patter of the rain against the window. 

Kenma cleared his throat and took a sip of his water.

Akaashi checked his phone, noting the time.  The other two were definitely late.  If they didn’t arrive within the next ten minutes, the movie was definitely going to be a dud. 

Kenma a few strands of hair between his fingers—it was getting to the length where it would need another trim.  He didn’t mind it long, but he was too lazy for the maintenance once it got too far below his shoulders.

Akaashi broke the awkward silence first.  “When you say fantasies… do you—do you have suggestions?”

“Uhh… you mean… not BDSM related?” Kenma kept his voice low, phrasing his words slowly and deliberately. 

“Surely there’s something a little less… something for beginners?” 

“There’s always roleplay… with or without… outfits.” 

“Outfits.” Akaashi repeated thoughtfully, nodding his head slowly up and down.  “I have a suit—“

“Hey hey hey!”

“Sorry we’re late!” 

The two nearly jumped out of their seats as Kuroo and Bokuto practically ambushed them at their table, both damp from the weather, but not too badly.  Of course, they had forgotten their umbrellas. 

Akaashi’s legs had bumped into the table in his surprise and knocked over his teacup; he and Kenma were now frantically throwing napkins atop the spill to clean it up, and trying for all the world to seem nonplussed.  Like they hadn’t just been talking about lewd things concerning their partners.  It was a great excuse for Akaashi to avoid eye contact with Kuroo and for Kenma to avoid eye contact with Bokuto. 

“Wow, didn’t mean to startle you guys that badly!” Kuroo laughed, grabbing a few napkins.  “Spilled some on the floor, here, let me.” 

He knelt down beside Akaashi’s feet to help mop up what little liquid had spilled beneath his chair, and Akaashi nearly stumbled backward as his mind insisted on remembering what Kenma had confided about Kuroo.  And his… _preferences_.  He swallowed hard and realized he was staring.  Staring at Kuroo kneeling at his feet.

“Sorry—I’m… you should let me, it’s my mess.”

Kuroo straightened soon enough, a handful of wet, wadded-up napkins and an amused grin. 

“Our fault, I think.” 

 _More than you know._ Akaashi thought. 

“So are we still on for the movie?  If we leave right now, I think we can still make it!” Bokuto checked the time on his phone. 

Kenma and Akaashi shared a glance, weighing their options.  Go to the movie, pretend their conversation never happened, and allow themselves some time to cool off and not have to look either Kuroo or Bokuto in the face for a couple of hours, _or_ …

“Movie.” They both said in unison. 

* * *

 

“So since I know you boys did your best to clean up before I came to visit, I know now that this is the best you can do.  And that’s just sad.” 

Mrs. Kuroo shook her head with an amused grin, hands in her lap as she looked around the apartment from her seat in the cushion.

“We’ve been busy,” Kuroo pouted, bringing the apple slices and forks to the table as Kenma brought the drinks.  But there was little he could say to defend himself, especially when she had brought the refreshments despite being the guest.

Kyari was rubbing against her legs insistently—how she warmed up so quickly to his mother was something Kuroo would never know—and it screamed of betrayal.  _Fickle,_ Kuroo thought.  But undoubtedly intelligent.  She clearly understood the hierarchy of authority in the room, but it wasn’t the nicest thing to be reminded he was no longer master in his own home. 

“Too busy to frame the pictures you’ve _taped_ to the walls?” she laughed, patting the cushion closest to her and motioning for Kenma to sit.  “They have frames at Daiso, you know.” 

“Ok, so our sense of interior decorating is a bit lacking,” Kuroo conceded, “What do you expect from two boys living on their own?”

“Probably more condoms around the apartment.” She replied without missing a beat.

“MOM!!!”

Kenma hid his mouth behind his hand, hoping to disguise his laughter as embarrassment and shame.  As always, he and Kuroo’s mother were aligned in their sense of humor, and no one could rile up Kuroo the way she could—it made her immensely fun to be around. 

“I assume you’re using them.  Then again, I don’t think I’ve ever given you _the talk_ …”

“Please… please stop talking.” Kuroo groaned and buried his face in his hands, mortified. 

Earlier that morning, Kenma had been the one to express some concern over this meeting—suggesting that maybe they would come under strict scrutiny, maybe even a little judgment—and Kuroo had waved it off.  He had laughed.  He had assured Kenma there would be nothing to worry about. 

He had been so very wrong. 

“Now now, that’s not a very nice thing to say to your mother, is it Kenma?” she turned to Kenma for affirmation, pouting her lips and winking. 

“No,” Kenma agreed with a stifled grin.  “No, it’s not very nice at all.” 

“This isn’t fair.  You can’t team up with her, Kenma!” Kuroo whined, laying his head on the table now, sobbing fake tears.  “Kyariiii… you wouldn’t betray me, right?”

She purred into Mrs. Kuroo’s extended hand and Kuroo moaned pathetically.  Betrayal on all fronts. 

“ _Et tu_ , Kyari-chan?”

Mrs. Kuroo pulled the calico into her lap with little trouble, and ran her fingers gently through the soft fur, a gentle smile on her lips.  She had a fondness for cats, even if she had never let Kuroo raise one in their home—her husband was regrettably allergic, and allergies were allergies, regardless of how little time the man actually spent at home. 

“Still… to name a calico, Kyari…” she chided, unable to refrain from teasing.  “That’s like naming a penguin, Pingy.” 

“Carrie is a western name, thanks very much.” Kuroo huffed.

“And a horror movie.” Kenma supplemented. 

“Helping or hurting, Kenma?  Helping or hurting?” Kuroo sighed as his mother broke into raucous laughter.

“Maybe it’s better you don’t have children, Tecchan.  The poor child would end up with an awful name.”

“I’d like to think I’d do slightly better naming a human child versus a cat.”  Kuroo reached across the table to tap the tips of his fingers against Kenma’s, who had slumped his shoulders, the smile falling from his face.   _She’s just teasing,_ he tried to say. 

Kenma knew she was teasing, knew she was just making conversation, and he knew that this was the sort of thing all moms said to their children after they got past a certain age.  School, jobs, marriage, children… he’d just never get around to that last one.  Kuroo had the better child-bearing hips anyway.

Mrs. Kuroo smiled at the small gesture between them, glad her son felt comfortable enough to do it in the open, in front of her very eyes.  _I love him,_ it said to her.  _Look, mom.  This is what he means to me._

“It makes me happy to see you two so happy,” she admitted, allowing sentimentality to color her words, which they did so rarely.  “And I’m so glad you’re willing to share it with me.  Kenma, you’ve always been like a son to me, and in that respect, nothing’s changed between us at all.”  She laid a gentle hand on Kenma’s shoulder, smiling fondly.  “Though I’d love it if you could call me mom!”

Kenma flushed at the wink she gave him, and she laughed.

“In your own time, no rush.” 

_I didn’t think I cared whether or not she knew… But when she told me, I was… I was so relieved I could cry._

Kuroo had said that, and it showed plain in his features now.  And now Kenma understood it also—the relief that flooded him was like none he had ever felt, mending a wound he hadn’t known the depth of.  But of course she couldn’t heal it completely—she wasn’t his only mother. 

As if hearing Kenma’s thoughts, Mrs. Kuroo added, “Your mother deserves to know; I think she should be able to see how happy you two are; it’s her right as a mother, and I know she’s been a good one to you.  I _know_ because she’s been a good one to Tecchan.  Think about it, hm?”

Kenma nodded silently, swallowing hard, now lacing his fingers with Kuroo’s on the table and gripping them tight. 

“I think I will at some point.  But right now, I think she has enough to worry about concerning me given my… condition.  Once that’s died down some, I’ll… I’ll talk with her about us.” 

“When we do, we’ll do our best to mention how you helped keep it a secret from her too,” Kuroo winked at his mother, and she smacked his shoulder, hard. 

“Heaven knows where you learned how to run your mouth like that,” she said with a wicked smirk, whacking him one more time for good measure.  “Now, what do you have in the fridge?”

“Why?”

“So I can figure out what we can cook with it.  You boys are either going to have to both play wife from time to time or at least one of you is—I’ll never be able to depend on some kind girl to feed you two so I’ve got to make sure you learn.”

“We take care of ourselves just fine!” Kuroo argued. 

“Maybe… but it’s not as good as mom’s home cooking, is it?” she directed the question at Kenma.

“…her cooking is better than ours.” He admitted, giving an apologetic shrug to Kuroo.

“And this is why Kenma’s my favorite!” She jumped to her feet, Kyari pouncing off to the side, and pulled on Kuroo’s ear until he stood and followed her to the kitchen.  Together they opened the fridge and the cabinets, examining their contents—Mrs. Kuroo chiding her son for not keeping enough of certain essentials.

She was right—it wasn’t like anything really changed.  They were still the loving, bickering family they’d always been, but Kenma was a more… official part of it now somehow.  And not having to hide was very different from being okay with hiding.  Kenma wondered if his own mother would dote on Kuroo the way Kuroo’s mom doted on him.  He hoped so.  He was starting to feel just a touch bad for his boyfriend… but it was his own fault really, for being so much fun to tease.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so concludes the angst and drama-filled sequel to the Seasons timeline. In the end, I think most of what I've managed to accomplish is to add an anxiety disorder for Kenma and a coming-out to one of their parents. 
> 
> A few of you have asked for a Tsukishima-centric spin-off story but I have no real plans to write one on my list of upcoming projects (one of which, includes continuing the Ruler AU story). But I will say that I don't think their story is one that gets resolved while they're apart and in under-grad; I think Tsukishima requires years more undoing of his emotional constipation. But I would recommend reading [Shooting Stars and Satellites](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3895666) by tesselated, since that is a fic I've much enjoyed and is a particular headcanon favorite for how Tsukki and Yams find each other at last. 
> 
> Pretty sure "et tu kyari-chan" is the worst language mash-up sentence I’ve ever made, and I frequently speak between multiple languages.
> 
> Also that bokuaka make-up sex is happening in a supplementary one-shot probably, since it didn't really fit with any chapter in the main story for this. 
> 
> As always, thank you all so much for reading and following my writing; Those of you who moved onto this story after reading all of Seasons of Love, I don't know how to thank you for sticking with me; obviously I know it's a lot to read. It really means a lot that people take the time to read it all. I do welcome feedback and critique for all my writing, please share your thoughts on areas you think I can improve. Thank you so much!
> 
> \--
> 
> Twitter: @Luna_Dreaming  
> Tumblr: @nimbus-cloud


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